Remnants
by Faye of Doriath
Summary: Mandos selects two elves and a wizard to help destroy the One Ring, which has emerged within the grounds of Hogwarts. Chapter 10; Remus gets some tricksy answers from Arwen, the twins make an introduction to Padfoot, and Legolas teaches Snape a lesson.
1. Prologue: The Choice

  
  
  


They knew it would happen, but they didn't expect it so soon. 

Well, relatively soon. 

Sauron had returned in all but a different form, and no, not that of a wolf. But worse. 

And the decision was not made so lightly. There were oppositions, and fueds. But in the end, all agreed, that the Valar and Mandos, and all of the High and Ancients needed to aide those younger and lesser children of Illuvatar. 

The question on Mandos's mind and the minds of the High, you ask? 

Who to send?   


_"You will need wisdom."___

_"No, no, courage, you will need courage."___

_"Courage, yes, but you forget about strength!"___

_"Send the previous bearer of the ring . . . one who has seen the eye."___

_"No. . . no, too risky. . "___

_"Send King Eldarion, high and last of the Numeneor!"___

_"No, send his father, the King Elessar, he who redeemed the race of men."___

_"You cannot send men on this quest. . . much too risky. . ."___

_"Yes. . . you must avoid sending men to Arda. Panic and alarment would spread like fire."___

_"The world has changed far too much for any mortal man to comprehend, they'd explode at first sight of this new age."___

_"So you must send an elder being."___

_"We shall then send Mithrandir, for he will know of change in this world, far and wide."___

_"No, he will not know. But we will pass it on to him. All the languages and knowledge of the world pretense. . . yes. Mithrandir shall we send. . . But he alone cannot redeem the good from the ill. Istari could frighten the new age, when handled incorrectly."___

_"Radagast the Brown has proved you opposite, in which you speak."___

_"True, yes. But Radagast took millenia to comprehend, and above all else, take on this new world in such grace."___

_"True. Yes. You must send another form of being. Those who understand . . . elves. You must send elves to Arda."___

_"Elves? Why elves and not humans?"___

_"Humans are easily corrupted, and reckless. The elves hold knowledge of the earth in all it's beauty and splendor."___

_"You cannot send the elves solely because their bonds with the earth."___

_"But the elves are easy to trust and kind. Their senses keen, and their minds sharp to any foe. And chosen properly, any enemy within eyesight, could be spotted."___

_"But the elves are much too ominous for these lesser beings. You cannot send them, no, no, much too intimidating."___

_"There is no other race that can handle men like elves. The elves have had their time, and proven good with it. Send them again, and if you do not, a great fatality beholds you."___

_"Yes. We must send the elves."___

_"But who shall go?"___

_"Elrond, send Elrond of Imladris. He knows men like his brothers."___

_"No, send Glorfindel of Gondolin, he who knows much suffering and wisdom."___

_"Choose a warrior, Galadriel of the Galadhrim. She who once wielded a blade, will nurture the world of men with a gentle hand."___

_"True, you will need a warrior, but not Lady Galadriel. Her forces are needed here in Valinor."___

_"Then Melian the Maia, send her in the stead of elves!"_

A soft, and kind elderly voice interrupted the fued. 

_"Send the elf of Mirkwood. He who helped destroy Sauron in the Third Age. He who guarded the Fellowship."_

A silence befell the leaders. 

_"Yes. We shall send Mithrandir and the elf of Mirkwood. But one more is needed. . . Another elf."___

_"Send one who knows wisdom. . "___

_"And one who knows grief. . "___

_"All elves know wisdom and grief. You must send an elf who has learned from grief. One who holds magic from their ancestors yet knowledge from the earth."___

_"Send Melian's descendents, for they are wise, and hold in them a vast magic that is subtle when hidden, yet incomprehensible when unveiled."___

_"Yes. . . send a descendent of Melian. . ."___

_"Dior?"___

_"No . . . one who has seen great peril . ."___

_"Elrond, you must send Elrond!"___

_"We cannot. His skill and wisdom is needed here."___

_"Send the sons of Elrond, the twins of Imladris."_

The old man's voice who had only once spoken, spoke again. 

_"Send the daughter of Rivendell. She holds grief and tragedy in her heart, yet strength of her foremother and wisdom of Galadriel. She who has seen much joy and suffering. She who need not wield a blade to destroy evil."___

_A silence.___

_"Evenstar. An interesting choice. . yet. ."___

_"Accurate. A child of Melian . . ."___

_"And the holder of wisdom."___

_"But how can we bring her back, when she has chosen the path of Luthien, and sufficed her life for the love of a mortal?"_

Another silence. 

_"You forget. We are the Higher children of Illuvatar. We can do whatever we like."___

_"Yes, but another problem has arisen in my mind. What to do with the angelic spirits?"___

_"We will give Mithrandir all the knowledge he needs, and send him to Arda. And then, we will give the elves following him."___

_"And then he will bestow upon them the knowledge. . "___

_"And they will protect, and destroy the ill in the world."___

_"Naturally. But what about their memory?"_

Yet another silence. 

_"We shall keep their memory of all that is done, but we will give them new identites. And new memories of this strange new world, that they will not feel frightened or alarmed. But familiar, distantly."___

_"Agreed."___

_"Most plausible."___

_"I concur."___

_"Then it is decided. Send the elf Greenleaf. . . and the Halfelven Evenstar along with Mithrandir to the Hog of Warts to aide the apprenticized wizards and witches."_

A silence follows. 

_"Now that the whole Ring and Sauron problem resolved, what are we to do about the ever growing problem of post its?"_   
  
  
  
  
  



	2. The Good News. . . !

  


Okay, for those who read the . . er . . 'preview', I changed Legolas's alias (say it aloud, it sounds cool!) because my good friend Emily, a.k.a. Cheshire, came up with the name Wendell Jorgenson, and it's really not fair, because he's her brain child and whatnot, so, yes, I changed Legolas's alias to something else, and well, I hope no one gets really confused with the speech dialects, because I mutated them as well. AHAHAHAHHAH. 

For my beta reader, Cheshire!   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The fall was terrible. 

They screamed. 

They cried. 

They sobbed. 

And then, they decided if they could scream, cry, and sob for ten minutes a piece without striking solid earth, they might as well shut up. 

It was like being dropped, deliberately, from a safe haven. 

Quite literally. 

But the landing wasn't too bad. 

Had it been any other creature, say, for instance, a human, it wouldn't have hurt at all because the human would be dead. 

But for them, they simply blacked out when they made contact with the earth. At least. . .they thought it was the earth. . .   
  
  
  


He groaned. His head hurt. Everything hurt. Why? He was usually so numb to pain, and even when on rare circumstances he did find himself in pain, it never lasted long. But. . . it wasn't going away this time. His eyes were closed, but panic was filling him from his feet to his head like water into a glass. 

Sounds, smells, thoughts he never knew existed before, were smacking him, embracing him, biting him and his senses. Loud, rotten, bizarre- 

Unfortunately, all of these stimulating senses were dulled by a very recognizable voice beneath him. 

"Get. Off. Of. ME!!" 

Legolas's eyes shot open, and stiffly, as his muscles shrieked in anguish, he rolled over painfully off of the person below him. 

His eyes widened. 

"Arwen?" 

The Queen of Gondor's beautiful raven hair was mussed and dirty, and instead of beautiful Elvish jewelry and time worn gowns, she wore- 

"Legolas? Where the hell are we?" she asked dazedly. A hand flew to her mouth and she looked appalled at the words that had just come out of her otherwise pure and clean lips. Legolas looked at her oddly as well. 

"What did I just say?" she murmured cautiously. 

"I believe you said, 'Legolas, Where the hell-" 

"No! Not that . . what. . what's going on? I mean, I said something that I wasn't thinking." 

"That's weird." as the words left his mouth, Legolas furrowed his brow in confusion. 

"Weird?" Arwen inquired, oddly. 

"It mean unusual," Legolas explained. 

She sighed. "I know what it means, but. . . how?" 

"I don't know, but let's concentrate on one thing at a time, shall we? Now where are we?" 

Arwen looked around her. "I think we're in a dumpster." she said, nonchalantly. 

And so they were. The 'interesting' smells Legolas had found entering his nostrils was that of egg shells and soaked coffee filters, not to mention some other unflattering things. . . 

"A dumpster?" he asked, perplexed. 

Arwen nodded. "It's a-" 

"I _know_ what it is, _Arwen_." he said matter-a-factly. And he did! He knew exactly what it was. But how? 

"This is some delusion." Legolas said, sitting back with a sigh. It had to be a delusion. Here he was, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, sitting on a pile of rubbish next to Queen Arwen. Arwen looked down at herself and gasped. 

"What am I wearing?!" 

Legolas looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. 

"A white tee shirt with blue jeans, but your shirt isn't exactly white anymore." he said, a small smile on his face. There was unholy garbage all over the front and back of Arwen's shirt. 

"Tee shirt?" she said. 

"Yes, it's a form of clothing that-" 

"I know what it means, Legolas! But _why_ am I wearing it? And. . . and why are you wearing one too . . . .?" 

Legolas looked down at himself as Arwen trailed off mindlessly with rhetorical questions. 

"Brown khakis and a red Patagonia. Red? Something is terribly amiss here, my lady." he said, disgusted. 

". . .And why are you here? Where are we? Some kind of different dimension, or something?" 

"Dimension?" Legolas felt the familiar word out oddly. 

"Yeah, it's a sort of parallel universe-" 

"Correction." came a soft, elderly, and somewhat amused voice. Arwen and Legolas jumped in surprise, as they saw an old man, draped in gray and blue, leaning heavily on a staff, a pointy hat upon his greasy gray hair, and a smile on his timeless face. 

"You are not in a dimension, and believe me, this is the same universe you have been in, and always will be in." 

Arwen's jaw dropped open, and Legolas began breathing in heavy, short paced breaths. 

"I. . . I remember you. . . You were in one of my dreams once. . you were once. . .Gandalf?" Arwen murmured, tears in her eyes at the sight of her old friend. 

"It wasn't a dream, my dear girl. It was real, and yes, once, and always. It's me, Gandalf." 

"I'm dreaming." muttered Legolas. 

Arwen snorted at him. "Elves don't sleep. Er. . you are still an elf, right Legolas?" 

"I think I am. . ." he trailed off uncertainly. 

"You both are. . ." Gandalf resumed. 

Arwen gasped in joy and surprise as her tears fell. 

"In a garbage bin." he finished lamely, cocking an eyebrow. 

The two elves looked around themselves once again, and remembered they were disgusted. 

"Now," said Gandalf, hobbling over to the garbage bin, and giving Arwen his hand with a gentleman's touch, "I suggest you come out of there, before you catch the eyes of some overly curious wizards." 

Arwen took his hand, and stumbled oddly out of the dumpster onto the ground. Her legs felt like jello beneath her, and she had to support herself against an alley wall in order to stay up. 

"Are we with a Wizard's Order then, Gandalf?" Legolas said, taking Gandalf hand and falling gracefully out of the dumpster. 

Arwen laughed, to her great surprise. It wasn't anything she'd normally laugh at. Gandalf chuckled as well when he saw the perplexed look on Legolas's face. 

"Did I just fall?" 

"You did." 

"Why? Elves don't fall, do they?" 

"Rarely, but it won't happen again, most likely. Once you get the explanations you deserve, and the memories come back, you'll remember your grace and beauty like it was a memory you might have once forgotten.." 

"Memories?" Legolas asked softly, getting up. Arwen came to his side, equally intrigued. 

Gandalf looked at them, a half smile on his face and his eyes set with a squint of laughter. 

"Master Gandalf," Arwen said softly. "Please, tell us, what is going on! Why, when Legolas speaks to me, does he use Westron? What time is it? Who are we? I can remember all that I have seen and all that I have been, but it's like a dream! Aren't I dead among men? And why the hell am I wearing jeans with flares at the bottom instead of khakis like him?" 

She sighed belated. "And. . where are we?" she added pathetically. 

He turned to her, and smiled warmly. 

"You are in a narrow subdivision of Diagon Alley."   



	3. Psuedo Identities

  
  
  
  


_"I ssseee the eye. . ."_

"What does it command?" 

"_Patiencccce_. . ." 

"You ingrate! Tell me now, or you will suffer the dire consequences!" 

_"My lord must be patient. We must not rush these thingssss. . ."_

The Dark Lord sat tapping his fingers, his precious patience waning with the fading dusk. 

_"Ahhh," _slithered the curling voice with a slight snigger. _"I sssssee the eye. . ."_

The impatient lord slammed his fist down on the black table. 

"Fool! You have said that once before!" 

_"Have I now? Ah, yes. But have I said that the eye commands of his superior-"_

"What!? What? Tell me now, idiot!" 

_"Join forces with the overlord. Together, you shall be unstoppable."_

"And if I refuse?" 

Silence. 

_"He will destroy everything you have earned throughout the years. Your followers, your title, and you."_

Voldemort contemplated this ultimatum. 

"What will I get in return?" 

_"Unstoppable power."_ replied the voice immediately. 

Voldemort paused for a moment, and then slowly smiled. 

"Tell your overlord he can expect only the best out of me." 

_"It isss done. . ."_

Voldemort sat up with a sigh. 

"I've done my part, wretch. Now you must fulfill yours." 

_"What mussssst I do?"_ the voice slithered with obvious disdain. 

"Find me the creature Gollum. Bring him to me or your overlord. We shall have good use for him in the near future, I gather." 

The voice groaned miserably, and Voldemort growled. 

"NOW!" 

Wormtongue scampered off into the darkness.   
  
  


Friday was The Three Broomsticks most busy night. Madame Rosmerta was practically sliding butterbeers three at a time across the chestnut coloured bar top to loyal patrons, and the entire pub radiated a jolly and warm cloud of friendliness and welcomed strangers and regulars alike. Any normal patron at The Three Broomsticks would have paid little attention to the trio in the back of the room, even though they (a raven haired, grey eyed beauty, a frail looking old man, and a very handsome fair haired young gentlemen) looked quite misplaced, no one paid much attention to them. 

Arwen and Legolas had just gotten their first taste of butterbeer. 

When Gandalf had asked them if it was adequate for their tastes, the elves responded by ordering seven more of the brew, therefore adding a handsome sum to old Gandalf's bar ticket. 

They figured he deserved it. 

And so, Gandalf told them the greatest tale they had ever told. 

Gandalf began with the changing of the world, and the choices of the Valar. He told them of Arwen's ancestors, who, on inheriting Lady Evenstar's father's rare elven magic, had evolved into wizards and witches. Gandalf told them of the evolution of Legolas' old home, Mirkwood, and how it had developed into more of an ominous background, fittingly named, The Forbidden Forest. He told them of Quidditch, Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts, house elves, and Voldemort. Gandalf literally told them about everything. 

And other stuff, like post its. 

At great length, the old wizard finished his tale. 

Arwen and Legolas looked at each other, before taking a large chug from their glasses. Arwen pried herself apart from her mug, and sighed before saying the first word. 

"Well, Mithrandir. . that. . . that's quite a story." Arwen said awkwardly. The two elves were still adapted of their new native language, complements of Illuvatar and his Valarian buddies, so they didn't speak much. 

Legolas sighed and rubbed his eyes. 

"I still don't understand a few things. Why _us_? I mean, I'm not anything unique, and no offense Lady Arwen, but you wouldn't be my first choice to send back to the land of the living to. . . er . . . heh, heh, um. . Gandalf, what did you say the High brought us back for, again?" 

"To defeat the new dark lord, and help destroy an old one." 

"Oh." 

"Why us?" Arwen reminded him. 

Gandalf merely smiled his old mysterious smile, before taking another drink from his mug. Arwen and Legolas knew a _'don't bother asking, I won't tell you'_ look when they saw one. 

"All right. We understand. But what are we supposed to do while we're here, anyway?" 

"Your task, as I have been given by the Valar, is to enter the Academy of Hogwarts for young aspiring witches and wizards, as professors." 

"Professors?" Arwen spat increduously. "But what do we know about modern magic?!" she demanded. 

Gandalf leaned forward on his elbows. 

"What do you know about anything?" he asked softly. 

And then it hit Legolas. Hard. 

"Everything." he murmured softly. Arwen's face fell in realization. 

"We know everything." 

Naturally, this would be a shocking discovery for one to realize that he or she suddenly knows everything about everything and anything. Gandalf seemed to know this as well, but didn't feel any sympathy for the two young elves. 

"You are no longer Arwen Undomiel of Gondor and Rivendell. Your father and mother are no longer Elrond Peredhil and Celebrian of Lorien. As of now you are Cassandra Odette Davis Averill. You were born in London in 1979, your parents were Maggie and Jefferson Averill. They perished when you were ten years old, and your twin brothers looked after you and trained you themselves to be a witch. You currently work for the Ministry as an auror, but are looking for a more relaxing job that offers more time to yourself." 

Arwen felt a single tear fall from her eye as Gandalf's gentle but stern elderly voice told her just who and what she was. 

Gandalf turned to Legolas. 

"And you . . ." he said with a crooked smile. 

"Can no longer act like a prince." 

Legolas frowned. 

"You are Alexander Jefferson Davis Harrison. You were born in London as well, and you are the only son of Odette and Scott Harrison, you are Cassandra's cousin, related by your father," he pointed at Legolas, "And your mother," he pointed at Arwen. 

Arwen sighed. 

"Is all of this really necessary?" 

"Of course!" responded Gandalf immediately. "And most importantly," he began in his sternest most adult voice. "You must **not **allow the students or faculty of Hogwarts to discover . . . your unique source of identity." 

"You mean-" 

"That's right. No one, except for Professor Averill and Professor Harrison can know that you are _elves._" 

Legolas sighed. 

"All right. We enter with our new idenities into Hogwarts School Of Wizardry and Witchcraft as Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, and by some miracle, aptly teach the little. . .children . . . What then?" 

Gandalf paused. 

"Wait." 

"Wait?" the pair of elves repeated increduously. 

"Wait." repeated Gandalf simply. 

Legolas and Arwen turned to each other with wide eyes. 

"But," said Gandalf, rising, "Until then, I suppose I should set up a job interview with Albus Dumbledore." 

"Is that so?" said another soft and gentile voice lined with age. Arwen and Legolas paused, and then slowly turned around to meet Gandalf's identical twin. 


	4. The Ace Up the Sleeve

  
  
  


Slowly, Arwen and Legolas turned around masking their surprise with subtle ease. 

There stood behind them, stood an old man. But, of course, Arwen and Legolas, even after being dormant for millennia, were still very good at first impressions, and got the idea that this old man wasn't just any old man. Like Gandalf, his beard was long and sparkled in the lantern light with a silvery white glaze, and while he walked with no staff, he still maintained a small slouch of a man who has burdened many years, yet maintained his dignity and wisdom all the same. 

His blue eyes twinkled behind his half moon spectacles, and Arwen and Legolas who had worn many a fine garment in their days of fashion, appreciated his stylish silk robes. 

"Good Dumbledore," Gandalf said gently, not surprised at all by this man's sudden appearance. 

"I believe it is time for you to meet two young people, ready for work, socially before you come together formally." 

Dumbledore's glance turned to the two young mysterious duo, and his eyes narrowed in a curious squint. 

"Is that so?" 

Legolas and Arwen gracefully pulled out of their chairs and stood to introduce themselves. 

"Allow me, sir. I am Cassandra Averill. Professor Dumbledore, I presume?" Arwen said kindly and carefully, outstretching her hand for Dumbledore to shake. Instead he smiled softly, and took her hand and planted a gentlemanly kiss upon her skin with a small bow. 

"Indeed, I am. A pleasure, my dear." 

Arwen gave a respectful nod as she took a step back, readying for Legolas to introduce himself. 

"Alexander Harrison, at your service," Legolas gave a bow, and Dumbledore nodded respectively at him with a small smile on his face. 

"Please take a seat, Professor." Legolas said, pulling out a chair for the Professor. 

Dumbledore nodded in gratitude as the three sat down and Rosmerta brought the elderly Professor a butterbeer. 

For the first time in their long lives, Legolas and Arwen felt genuinely uncomfortable. Here they were, a place and time where nothing made sense (and yet, it did) sitting in between two clever old men who still knew much more than they would let on, while they played senile fools. 

They knew patience well enough to hide it, and Arwen and Legolas knew Dumbledore and Gandalf were testing them somehow, and they didn't mind at all. But still. . . they knew patience. 

After all, didn't they know everything already? 

"So," began Dumbledore casually, turning to the two elves. 

"You are from London?" 

"Indeed." said Arwen simply, sipping her butterbeer. 

Dumbledore's eyes flashed to Gandalf for half a second, but then covered up the act by smiling at Arwen. 

"Lovely, place, is it not?" 

"Bad food, bad weather. I beg to differ." Arwen said politely. 

"But it isn't without it's attractions, of course. I can't help but visit Big Ben every time we go back to visit." Legolas said. 

"You visit often?" 

"Cassandra and I often visit during the summer. Although we haven't gotten the chance to do much sightseeing this summer. The Ministry has been complete upheaval lately." 

"Ah, the Ministry. And, which department do you specialize in, Mr. Harrison?" 

Oh. . . um. . . . 

OH DEAR! 

Gandalf didn't tell him what area he worked in at the Ministry, what was he supposed to do now? Legolas put on a tight smile, and paused for a long moment. 

"I'm in between departments, as of now." he said carefully. That raised an eyebrow from everyone. 

"Oh?" asked Dumbledore. 

"Er. . yes. Yes indeed." He was stuttering, which meant it was time to give Arwen the conversation. 

"Cassandra actually took the bull by the horns you know, heh heh, go on, tell them cousin!" 

Arwen's lip curled for a moment, before she turned that into a sweet smile. 

"Well, Alex and I felt more comfortable moving from Muggle Security to Dark Arts Enforcement." she said elaborately. 

Dumbledore leaned forward, intrigued. 

"Indeed? Quite a jump in departments, wouldn't you say?" 

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." quipped Arwen seriously. 

Dumbledore nodded, agreeing. 

"And I hear you're interested in a place at Hogwarts. . ." 

Legolas smiled. 

"Fascinated, more like." 

"Ah, yes. Defense Against the Dark Arts is indeed a touchy subject for our students. Especially last year, after the Chamber incident." 

Arwen and Legolas nodded understandingly. 

"And we do have many a promising candidate this year. . ." 

"Really?" Legolas asked deeply intrigued. 

Dumbledore nodded and took a sip of his butterbeer. 

"Even after the Gilderoy Lockhart dilemma, you still have people lining up?" he queried further. 

Dumbledore suddenly got a sullen face full of distant curiosity. 

"I don't think I quite catch your meaning." 

Legolas paused thoughtfully, tapping his long fingers on the table. 

"I only meant to ask how 'catch' your Professors. If I've heard correctly, last year, Professor Quirrell came near to killing a student, and this year, Professor Lockhart comes close to killing three. Things at Hogwarts seem to come in odd numbers, don't they Professor?" 

Gandalf's eyes flickered over to Dumbledore as he sat intrigued beside Legolas. 

"Hogwarts is an odd school in general, Mr. Harrison." 

"Indeed it is." said Arwen, joining in on the conversation. 

"It would be quite interesting to see your choice for Professor this year." 

They were cutting it awfully close. 

Dumbledore turned to Arwen. 

"And if that choice happens to be you or your cousin?" 

A slow smile crept upon Gandalf's lips as Arwen laughed. 

"Then I should have to replace fascinating with bizarre." 

"Do you not have confidence in yourselves?" Dumbledore asked with a queer smile. 

"I believe you've misinterpreted me, good Professor." said Arwen leaning forward. 

"But Alex and I. . . well, you can just say, we come from a very unique line of people. Our confidence, though sometimes shaky, is a bit maintained." 

Cutting it VERY close. 

"We hold ourselves in the most esteem two young aurors can hold themselves in at our age and this time." replied Legolas. 

"And just how old are you?" 

"Nearing my twenty fifth birthday, and Alex is about twenty nine." said Arwen modestly. 

"You're quite young then." 

"So are a lot of people." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Harry Potter, for instance." Legolas said earnestly. "The boy is almost thirteen, and already he's defeated Voldemort . . . three times, is it?" 

Gandalf nodded. 

"In short, Alex and I believe age is simply a number." Arwen said, a sly smile on her face. Gandalf shot her a warning look. 

"Have you the opportunity to meet Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked casually. 

"No." said Arwen simply. 

"Though I've heard he's quite a whizz at Wizard's Chess." supplied Legolas. 

"Ah, you should see his companion, Ronald Weasely. Quite the player, if I do say so myself." 

"Arthur's son? I don't believe I've meet him either." Arwen said distantly. 

"Of course you have, Cassandra. Don't you remember the time at Flourish and Blotts. He was the young man with his brothers buying books with them. Now what were we doing there? Oh yes, buying those nonsensical books from Shakespeare." 

"They are not nonsensical, _Alex. _It is only that you cannot admire the splendour and beauty of the man." 

"You're fond of Shakespeare then?" Dumbledore asked Arwen. 

"Quite. If I had been in London a few centuries ago, I would have been in the front row of each and every one of his shows." she said simply. 

Gandalf sent her another serious warning glance. 

The constant references to immortality weren't exactly his idea of subtle. 

"Now tell me, for I forget, was he a wizard, or a muggle. . . I never can quite remember." 

Dumbledore and Gandalf were top of their rank when it came to acting senile. 

Arwen paused. 

"Does it matter?" she asked lowly. 

Dumbledore stared at her for a moment, and then smiled. 

"No. . . I suppose not." 

There was a comfortable silence at the table, before Arwen and Legolas realized they were getting quite hungry. Excusing themselves politely, they approached the barkeep and busied themselves in the menu. 

Once Gandalf and Dumbledore were certain the two were out of earshot, they turned to each other, and smiled devilishly. 

"Well?" said Gandalf. 

Dumbledore paused. 

"Well, that was perhaps the funnest job interview I've ever conducted." 

Gandalf chuckled menacingly. 

"Was that simply due to the fact that the poor elves had no idea they were being put through an interview?" 

"Of course. . . well, Gandalf, my old friend, they haven't lost their touch. But I'm afraid your elves are a bit naive when it comes to old men." 

Gandalf laughed. 

"I quite agree, old friend. I quite agree. But that can be fixed. What I need to know is if they are teaching material? Will they survive Hogwarts Academy?" 

"Headstrong, humble, caring, a bit colour blind which is arguably good or no, let's see. . . Evenstar seems to have maintained her charm and wit, very good, Legolas seems to have matured a good deal as well. . . yes. . . I think they are quite suitable, Gandalf. An excellent choice the Valar have made." 

Gandalf nodded and looked over at the two elves with a smile. 

"Well Radagast, my friend. I think we can expect an interesting year at your school this semester. . ." 


	5. Pandemonium

**_*Keep your eyes open kiddies, there are lots of key plot points and twists in this one and pretty much everything will be relevant. . ._**   
  
  


"Well, what do you think?" asked Gandalf, standing before Arwen and Legolas, and spreading his arms wide. 

Arwen cocked her head. 

"It's quite majestic." she said simply. 

Legolas bit his lip. 

"It looks a bit drafty." 

Arwen rolled her eyes. "It's a castle, my friend. All castles are drafty. . . aren't they, Gandalf?" 

Gandalf turned back around to face Hogwarts Castle and smiled broadly. 

"Not this one, my young elves. Not this one." 

Arwen and Legolas slowly walked up to where Gandalf was standing and looked at the castle from his point of view. 

"It was very generous of Headmaster Dumbledore to give us a tour, especially with the school being closed to the students for the summer and all." said Arwen slowly and somewhat suspiciously. 

"Quite. I also think it is very generous of the Headmaster to allow us into the Forbidden Forest, even after we asked. With it being forbidden and all." Apparently, Legolas shared the feeling. However, Gandalf kept the senile old grin on his face as he and the elves approached the front gates of the castle. 

"And wasn't it kind of him to give us the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, even after not doing a professional interview?" said Arwen. 

"I'm starting to believe you don't entirely trust Dumbledore and I, could I be mistaken?" Gandalf asked innocently. 

Arwen merely looked at him with a small smile and said; 

"I trust the both of you with all my heart." she said sweetly. 

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, so do I, but that doesn't mean I believe everything they've told us." 

Gandalf laughed, but replied with nothing. 

As the three approached the main entrance of Hogwarts, something ominous set itself deep in the hearts of the two elves and the one wizard. It was a feeling of terror that had long been absent in their presence. . . it was the feeling of convalesce fleeing and danger returning. Arwen turned sharply to Gandalf and clutched at the old man's arm in fright, while Legolas instinctively reached for his bow and arrow, which he discovered to his own slight embarrassment were missing. 

"Gandalf," Arwen began lowly, "I thought you said this was a new world." 

Gandalf looked at her with the utmost seriousness. 

"No, my dear. I said it was a new time. But. . some things can never change." 

Without further delay, Gandalf raised his arm and knocked ever so gently on the great doors. His manner was so calm and cool, that it nearly frightened Arwen and Legolas even more than they were now. A huge thud was heard on the opposite side of the doors as Gandalf's knock echoed throughout the building, and with a slow creak, the doors opened somewhat. 

A tall, lanky man with greasy hair and a twitching eye appeared. 

In a sick turn of fear, Legolas burst out laughing when he saw the man. Partly because of the man's sudden and bewildering appearance, and partly because of the strange transition of emotions, from fear to bizarre hilarity. 

The man glared at Legolas and let his shifty eyes move to Arwen and Gandalf. 

"School's closed. Come back in August." 

"I do apologize for not introducing myself immediately, good sir, but I am Gandalf Greyhearst, and this is Mrs. Cassandra Averill," he motioned to Arwen, still latched on his arm. "And Mr. Alexander Harrision." Legolas wiped the corny smile off of his face and registered a tall posture and aristocratic face. 

The man examined the group a bit more closer before furtively opeing the door wider. 

"Oh." he said gruffly, "The Headmaster's expecting you. This way." 

"May I ask who you are, my good man?" asked Gandalf kindly and bravely. 

The man paused, glaring feverently but less suspiciously. 

"Filch. Professor Filch. Follow me."   


As the three entered the main hall and the doors shut quietly behind them, it seemed a huge burden was pulled off of their shoulders. The fear was gone. Arwen's elven princess posture slouched in bewilderment as she sent Gandalf and Legolas a most confused look. It was like magic! Gandalf merely gave her a dark look, and gave her wrist a gentle pull in the direction that the surly Professor was leading. 

The castle was too grand for words. Arwen and Legolas, who had seen much in their days, were somewhat impressed with the grandeur palace set before them. They passed through the Great Hall and above them, saw the dark cloudy skies beginning to sprinkle rain upon them. 

Legolas frowned slightly at the skies as he walked with his head high to the ceiling. 

"What troubles you, my boy?" asked Gandalf in a hushed whisper. 

Legolas looked at him and sighed. 

"I'm remembering, Gandalf. Simply remembering. . ." he said wistfully and softly. 

Arwen and Gandalf sent each other worried looks, but decided to brush it off for the time being. 

"Stay close, now, if you don't mind." said Filch dourly, not sounding at all apologetic. The group exited the hall and entered a massive corridor. The windows on the left were wide and arched, giving an almost surreal view to the great and wide forest beyond the Hogwart's lake. Legolas stopped dead in his tracks as he passed the first window and saw his first glance at the great wood. Gandalf, Arwen and Filch followed in his suit, looking at him with soft curiosity. Like a clock melting with the ages that it passed and counted, Legolas' face became limp with emotion, and a subtle, gentle tear slipped quietly down his soft face. 

"Cousin?" asked Arwen, cautiously coming to his side. 

Legolas swallowed loudly and turned to Arwen slowly with a smile that shook with emotion. 

"I. . . I think I'm home. I think I'm home again."   


They came at last to a most peculiar looking door, guarded by two large gargoyles. The three could tell it was Dumbledore's office by the way Professor Filch was suddenly becoming proper and respectful. 

"If you'd kindly wait a moment outside, I will fetch the Headmaster." 

Filch leaned over to one of the gargoyles and whispered something inaudible, throwing furtive glances at the three as he did so. The door suddenly became unlatched and revealed an oddly placed staircase. Just as Arwen and Legolas' eyes began to wander, Filch slammed the door shut and disappeared. 

There was a moment of silence before Arwen and Legolas looked at each other and then at Gandalf. 

"This is indeed a very peculiar school." said Legolas wistfully. 

"Gandalf, I'm quite confused. . . Oh! I don't think I've ever been confused in my life, and that is what vexes me!" said Arwen in a very frustrated voice, putting her head down hopelessly. Legolas looked at her sympathetically, while Gandalf remained unreadable. 

"I've always known what to do, or what not to do. With the exception of Luthien's choice. But now that we're here. . . now that I have all these new memories . . . and now that we're in this castle, I feel as if I'm back in-" 

"All in good time, Cassandra. All in good time." said Gandalf, lifting Arwen's chin up with his hand. Before Arwen could ask any more of him, Dumbledore emerged from the mysterious door, followed immediately by Filch. 

"Ah, my friends. I'm pleased you could have made it. I trust your journey was pleasant?" 

Legolas smiled softly. 

"Portkey is not my first choice of travel, Headmaster." 

Gandalf laughed a bit at this and gave Dumbledore a wink. 

"I'm afraid the boy has never quite gotten used to the ideas of Portkey and Apparition." he said. 

"A small childhood phobia, if you will." said Legolas, with an odd smile on his face. 

"Ah! Well, tis no matter. Now, let us proceed with the grand tour, on we go!" 

They followed Gandalf outside to a long scenic walkway that led around the courtyard back inside the castle, and then down that hallway to a door left a quarter open. 

"This is Minerva McGonnagall's classroom, forgive me, but she may be less than delighted to have visitors." said Dumbledore in a quiet tone. 

He rapped gently on the door and called out softly; 

"Minerva?" 

"Busy, Albus!" 

Gandalf leaned over to Legolas remained in listening range so as to let Arwen in on his advice. 

"You've convinced Dumbledore who you are, but now his army will decide if you are fit for the task . . . of teaching, that is." 

Legolas and Arwen looked at him as they had been looking at him the entire while. 

"Minerva, I'd like you to meet some very special people, if you'd be so kind." 

A heavy sigh. 

"Oh, all right, come in." 

Dumbledore opened the door fully, and revealed a small classroom to the three visitors, with a head desk at the front of the classroom and an elderly woman sitting behind it. She was in her mid fifties as it looked like to Arwen and Legolas, and she wore a prim pointed hat as well as dark navy robes with the Hogwarts insignia embroidered on the breast. Her old face reflected a stern woman; a woman who had seen much in her youth and experienced much in her elder years. Any visitor might have just seen an old teacher, sitting behind a desk, writing up new assignments and notes for her upcoming classes. . .but to Arwen and Legolas, she was an embodiment of all they had been through, and what they were about to face. 

"Minerva, I'd like to introduce to you to our new Defense teachers," 

Professor McGonagall suddenly stood up and began eyeing the the three people quite peculiarly. 

"All three of them?" she asked, a bit dazed. 

Gandalf laughed. 

"No, madam, only the two." 

"Minerva, may I introduce you to Mrs. Cassandra Averill," 

Arwen came forward and shook McGonagall's hand firmly. "It is an honor, madam." said Arwen softly and at the same time showing respect. McGonagall's eyes rested for a long while upon Arwen, as if examining her thoroughly and curiously. 

"Likewise, I am sure." she merely said, showing hints of being impressed. 

"And this, is young Alexander Harrison." 

Minerva's eye turned to Legolas after reluctantly leaving Arwen's face and suddenly, her face changed as though a light had suddenly been turned on. Professor McGonagall paused for a very long time as she gaped at Legolas' face. Dumbledore's face fell in a worry. 

"Minerva?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern. 

McGonagall snapped out of daze softly and gave a faint chuckle. 

"I do beg your pardon, young man." 

Legolas looked at her patiently. 

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked kindly. 

"No, no thank you. . . I just had a brief episode of deja-vu. Have we met before?" 

"I do not recall, madam. But my memory _does_ seem to be playing tricks on me lately." 

"Oh . . . how strange. I do beg your pardon, Albus." 

Dumbledore nodded understandingly. 

"I see. Well, this is Gandalf Greyhearst, a very, very old, and a very, very good friend of mine." 

Minerva turned to Gandalf and nodded with a small smile. 

"How do you do?" 

"Well enough, for the morning. These old bones aren't what they used to be, my dear." 

Minerva laughed and nodded, and a somewhat of an awkward silence followed. 

"Oh, forgive me, how very rude, I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I teach Transfiguration here at Hogwarts." 

"Hmm. My worst subject." murmured Arwen. 

"Indeed?" asked McGonagall, with a small smile. 

Arwen laughed kindly. 

"Oh Merlin, I was awful. I believe I once turned a horse into a bird." 

Minerva was blank. 

"What is so awful about that, if you don't mind me asking?" 

"I was supposed to turn the horse into a table." 

"Oh, that's not so bad. Why Professor Snape was the worst Transfiguration student in whole school when he was student." 

Dumbledore gave a soft chuckle but gave Minerva a chiding tsk. 

"Professor Snape. . . Snape. . .Snape, now where I have I heard that name?" asked Legolas earnestly, turning to Gandalf. 

"I don't believe you have met him, quite yet, my boy." said Dumbledore. "Which reminds me, Minerva, if you will kindly excuse us, we must make a trip down to the dungeons." 

"He teaches in the dungeons?" asked Arwen, aghast. 

Minerva gave her a sardonic look. 

"It is quite fitting for the Professor's outlook, Mrs. Averill." 

"Minerva-" 

Legolas and Arwen watched on in intense curiosity. 

"Personally speaking, Professors, I would suggest you exert caution around the Potions Professor. He's a bit surly, and quite unkind to deal with when in a bad mood. He's one of Hogwart's best instructors, but his ways of teaching are a bit, shall we say-" 

"Now, Minerva. You must remember what I told you and Professor Snape. Your quarreling isn't good for the student's to be witnessing." 

Minerva opened her mouth to answer, but just as she did so, the door to her classroom was thrown open with a huge, thundering crash. Not acting the least bit surprised, Legolas (once again reaching for his non existing bow and arrow) and Arwen turned around swiftly, while Dumbledore and Gandalf took their time turning to see what all the commotion was about. At first, the two elves thought this man a giant of sorts; what with his long shaggy and unkept beard, his large brown eyes nearly glowing with panic and anxiety, and his huge frame. It was no surprise that the elves would think so at first glance, but then they realized who he was. He was the first to open the Chamber of Secrets. He was Hagrid, the Hogwarts Gamekeep, and he was quite important. 

"Hagrid?" inquired Dumbledore deeply and expectedly. 

"Professors. We've got ourselves an emergency." came the deep mighty voice from the larger than life man. 

There was a beat of silence. 

"Lead the way." said Dumbledore firmly, become nimble and brisk. 

Gandalf and the two elves started to follow suite along with Minerva, but Dumbledore turned to them and opened his mouth to argue, but Legolas got there before him. 

"What better way to show our experience in the Dark Arts?" 

Arwen nearly punched him for being so cocky, but she decided to let it go and leave it to McGonnagall and Hagrid to give the incredulous looks. 

Dumbledore looked at him with deathly seriousness before he slowly nodded. 

"Come." he said simply.   


On the edge of the Forbidden Forest was a debatable place. Debatable meaning here, whether it was safe or not. Inside the forest obviously was not, but on the edge, was Hagrid's hut, giving a sense of ambivalent caution. Outside once again, Arwen and Legolas immediately became uncomfortable, but they ignored it as long as though it didn't exist. Keeping on each side of Gandalf as he followed Dumbledore and Hagrid out, Legolas and Arwen looked at each other with uncertain eyes. But it was Arwen who felt the cold chills enter her spine. For as they came closer and closer to the wood, Arwen was beginning to sense that Legolas was not the only getting the feeling of deja-vu when seeing the forest. It felt home to her as well. But not in a comforting way. 

Ahead of them, were two cloaked figures, Snape and McGonnagall. McGonangall had dashed off to the dungeons the minute Dumbledore had set out from her classroom, and informed Snape on the situation. Arwen and Legolas, wishing they could have met Snape on better events, calmly approached the two and stood tall and calm, while Hagrid began informing everyone. 

"Three unicorns, I've found, dead as a door nail, this mornin'. And just ten minutes ago, Fang found another one show up dead." 

"Any trace of blood missing?" asked McGonnagall. 

Hagrid shook his head. 

"No. It looks like they've just been killed off for sport." 

"Looks like." murmured Arwen. 

Snape's cold eyes rested on her and began examining her meticulously. 

Arwen looked back and him in return and smiled to herself as she foresaw the outcome of this staring match. She'd learned from Galadriel how to scare off any old fool with a mere glance. 

She looked at him with her dark blue eyes and let Snape's mind do the rest of the work. 

Snape's eyes widened as he tilted his head with intense dislike and curiosity. 

"All I found was these, mighty scary it is." 

Hagrid held up two long, rusty, swords. 

Beside her, Arwen felt Legolas stiffen. A cold chill shot down his spine and his fists clenched. Without realizing it, Legolas' eyes began searching wildly for any movement. He walked a few feet and began quickly circuling and pacing backwards and forwards. It was the first time he'd ever panicked like this, and it scared him that he did so. Arwen merely gaped at the swords in disbelief. 

"Gandalf. . . " she murmured, like a child calling for his or her mother for dear life. 

Gandalf, who stood next to her, took Arwen's hand and gave it a tight squeeze for reassurance. 

"You must forgive Cassandra, she's got quite a fear of swords. Now, now, young lady, there's nothing to fear." 

Gandalf leaned into her ear. 

"Stay in character, my dear." 

He pulled back and Arwen looked at him for a moment, before she recovered herself and recieved strength from his words. 

"May I?" she asked Hagrid softly. 

He looked at her a bit oddly for a moment before handing her one of the swords. 

Arwen looked at it for a moment before holding it farther away from herself. The hilt was black, and inscribed on it was an eye. The Eye of Sauron, to be precise. The metal was hardly sturdy, but excellently welded. The tip was black with a straight line of ebony going from point to hilt. It was the sword of the Nazgul. 

"Alexander." Arwen called, calmly, not taking her eyes off of the sword. 

Legolas came behind her and felt a gush of cold air hit him in the face accompianed by a cold realization. 

"Do you see what I see?" she asked softly. 

Legolas nodded. 

"Yes." he murmured. 

"Two of them." she stated. 

He paused, before looking at her. 

"Two of us." 

Arwen looked at him, and then at the sword. 

"This morning, you say, Professor Hagrid?" 

"Jus' Hagrid, madam. Yep, Fang star'ed up like a storm when 'e saw 'em. Couldn' hardly get the old boy away." 

Arwen handed the sword back to Hagrid and frowned. 

"It's obvious we're dealing with a sort of ruthless creature, but what sort of ruthless creature would simply kill a unicorn and not take the blood?" asked McGonnagall of Dumbledore. 

"The answer, Professor, is the sort of animal that is cunning enough to 'play games'. If you will." said Snape, speaking up for the first time. 

Arwen's eyes shifted to him darkly. 

"Animal? Something that cunning is no animal, Professor." 

"It's a phantom. . " murmured Legolas. No one heard him. 

Snape looked at her as though she had just corrected him. 

"I don't believe we've been introduced." 

"No, we haven't." said Arwen. 

A silence. 

"Professor Snape, allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Cassandra Averill, and Mr. Alexander Harrison, our two new Professors of the Dark Arts." interjected Dumbledore seriously. 

"A pleasure." said Snape in his most surly tone. 

"All ours, I'm sure." said Legolas with a small pleasant smile. 

"Look, Professors. Whatever it is, it's still out there." said Hagrid darkly, looking mostly at Dumbledore. 

As if on cue, a terrible screech rang out from the forest. Birds scattered in panic and small creatures were heard shuffling and scampering away. 

Legolas began breathing erratically as he looked on at the dim and dark forest. 

"If I may be as so bold to inquire it of you, Headmaster." said Arwen, turning to Dumbledore. "Professor Harrison and I would like to explore the wood and try to uncover what has happened this morning." 

Gandalf and Dumbledore looked at her blankly, while McGonnagall and Snape's jaws dropped. 

"Professor Averill, I really wouldn't do that without knowing exactly what you're dealing with. Believe me." said McGonnagall seriously. 

Snape looked at the Professors with so much disdain, he looked about to choke on it. 

But Dumbledore merely stared at her with those sharp blue eyes. He was measuring them, weighing their confidence with actual ability. Comparing their wit with their common sense. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something to decline them of her request, but instead just looked on with thought. 

"_Do _you know what you're dealing with, Professors?" 

Legolas turned to him. 

"If we are correct, then yes. Unfortunately, yes we do." 

"I don't believe the question is really what they know what they're dealing with Professor Dumbledore, rather than, do they have the necessary resources to deal with it again." said Gandalf. 

"You've got to be kidding me, Gandalf." said Legolas bluntly. 

His response raised the eyebrows of everyone but Dumbledore and Gandalf. 

"It's not a joking matter, Professor. Do you have your resources?" 

Arwen and Legolas looked at each other a moment. 

"Resources. . ." he said softly. 

_Bows. Arrows. Knives. Daggers. Swords. Horses-_

"No." stated Arwen. 

"Then I do not suggest diving into this matter without being armed with the necessary tools." 

Professor Snape looked at the two Professors with the utmost distrust and dislike. 

"Then there is nothing to be done here. . . at the moment." 

"Albus, perhaps we should delay the first day of the semester, you know, just to be careful." said Minerva, looking worridly into the forest. 

Dumbledore shook his head, looked at Gandalf for a moment, and then shook his head again. 

"That won't be necessary. I'm quite faithful that my staff can deal with anything this year brings." 

His eyes flashed momentarily to Snape, Arwen, and Legolas. 

"But for the moment, I believe it is lunch time."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Return of Wisdom

After little more discussion of Hogwarts ground security and such things, Arwen and Legolas followed closely behind Gandalf and Dumbledore while McGonnagall, Snape, and Hagrid arranged their schedules for nightly watch. 

The elves kept quiet while Gandalf and Dumbledore exchanged a queer conversation. 

"The rain has been falling at quite odd of late." 

"Has it?" 

"Yes, it seems as though the weather has different plans than our school this year." 

"How so?" 

"Professor Sprout is more passionate on the matter than others, but it seems that we may or may not have an Herbology class in fall." 

"A pity." 

"It is, isn't it?" 

"What seems the be the problem?" 

"Well, this rain is quite interfering with the growing season of some of the plants in the forest." 

"Is that so?" 

"Quite. While precipitation is good for the growth of asphodel, it sometimes it is almost too good for the plant. It tends to overgrow and cover other plants." 

"How odd. What sort of other plants?" 

"Oh, you know," 

Dumbledore gave him a wink. 

"Just the herbal poppycock." 

Legolas leaned over to Arwen's ear with a small smile on his lips; 

"They really don't think much of us, do they?" 

"Subtlety is a finely-honed craft of the elderly Legolas, you know that." she replied simply. 

They entered through the main hall as they had when they had first arrived, but now instead of a calm silence, softly conversing voices drifted to their ears from the direction of the dining hall. Dumbledore smiled warmly at the sound of the voices. 

"The Professors are reacquainting themselves with each other. It's been a whole two months since they've seen one another." 

Arwen and Legolas nodded respectively. 

"Oh is that what they're doing? Hmm. I could have sworn it was another one of those blasted teacher's conventions." A loud obnoxious voice came tumbling over the four's heads, and everyone looked up to see whom it belonged. 

"Peeves." stated Dumbledore in a calm greeting. 

Arwen and Legolas looked up at the ghost in fascination. 

"Peeves?" they both inquired simultaneously. 

"A mischievous ghost, pay him no alarment, our ghosts tend to thrive off fear. Follow me, and I will introduce you to the rest of the faculty." 

Dumbledore and Gandalf began to lead the two elves into the Great Dining Hall, and just as the two wizards entered through the doorway, Peeves suddenly appeared before Legolas and Arwen's path. 

"_I know something you don't know, I know something you don't know_. . . " 

Arwen and Legolas exchanged looks. 

"Really?" asked Legolas, sounding quite uninterested. 

"I, personally, find that very doubtful," Arwen smirked. "But I admit, you _do_ have us curious." 

Peeves stuck his transparent tongue out. 

"Alex?" 

"Yes, 'Sandra?" 

"Have you ever encountered a ghost of this nature?" 

"I don't believe I have." 

"Hmm. Interesting. Tell me, Peeves, where did you originate from?" 

"_I know something you don't know_. . . " Peeves taunted, wafting over to Arwen's side. 

"Now really, that is quite a childish thing to say." said Legolas defiantly. 

"Humor him, just for now." Arwen said indifferently to Legolas as Peeves spun around in circles above their heads, giggling with delight. 

Legolas sighed exasperatedly. 

"All right. What is it then, Peeves, is it?" 

Peeves floated down to Legolas' eyes. 

"You have to ask nicely." 

Legolas shot a glance at Arwen and then put on a tight smile. 

"What do you know, please?" 

Peeves grinned. 

"I don't remember. Maybe you should ask _him_." 

"Who is him, if I might ask?" said Arwen patiently. 

Peeves began dancing about the floor like a child. 

"The old wizard fool in white." 

Arwen and Legolas looked at each other, and then on into the dining hall at Gandalf. 

Peeves followed their glances and rolled his eyes incredulously. 

"Not HIM, the other one. The creepy one." 

Arwen and Legolas stole glances at one another and then back at Peeves. 

"And. . . where would he be?" 

"I last saw him. . . oh, why should I tell you, you're beginning to bore me, anyway." 

Arwen approached Peeves sweetly with a small smile on her face. 

"Please, Master Peeves?" 

Peeves made a ghostly smile at her and raised his eyebrows. 

"You," he began with a grin and wafting back down to Legolas. 

"He was looking for _you."_

"Then perhaps I can find him if of course you are willing to tell me where you last saw him?" Legolas quipped. 

Peeves sighed. 

"I last saw him. . . walking down the west third floor hallway. He stayed quite close to the windows and carried a large white stick with him. . . " 

Peeves suddenly grinned. 

"He was quite fun to surprise." 

Arwen and Legolas looked at each other seriously. 

"Did you tell the Headmaster of this?" Arwen asked urgently. 

"He didn't ask." 

"How long ago was it that you saw him then?" she went on. 

"How the blazes should I know? Time is frivolous to me. As it is to _you_!" 

There was a dark silence as calmly chaotic thoughts raced through the minds of Legolas and Arwen. Peeves grinned innocently on. He wasn't a threat, but others were. If he knew about them, then others must know- 

"How do you know who we are?" Arwen asked lowly and suspiciously. 

Peeves giggled with a sick laugh. 

"How do you know I know who you are?" 

"Lets just say, intuition. How?" 

Peeves paused for a moment and then grinned as he began to swivel up to the huge ceiling and through the wall's corner. 

The elves sighed and looked at each other. 

"All right. We need to talk. If we're supposed to know everything, then why do I have so many damned questions?" Legolas blurted out. 

"I agree. We'll talk when we have time, but right now, let's just play along. Besides, we can hunt down that blasphemous ghost and badger him later." 

"But Ar- . . . Cassandra, this isn't looking good," he hissed, trying to be furtive and closing in front of her. "We haven't been here two hours, and all ready we have three very evil, very powerful enemies of ours walking on the grounds of a _children's school_!" 

Arwen sighed. 

"There has to be some logical explanation-" 

"I'm listening!" said Legolas sweetly. 

"Ugh, Valar boy, I don't know anymore than you do! Maybe it's some cult derived from the Nazgul, maybe the white wizard was actually. . . a professor, maybe. . ." 

Arwen paused. 

". . . Or maybe we weren't the only ones recalled to life on this planet. . . maybe. . . maybe. . ." 

Arwen stopped dead in her voice, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe just as Legolas came upon the same realization at the same exact moment. 

"Oh. . . .!" Legolas began numbly. 

"Oh. . . . oh. . . oh shit!" 

"You put it quite aptly, my boy. But I must warn you, if Professor McGonnagall hears that sort of language in the halls, you are doomed for an immediate detention." 

Legolas whipped around to see Dumbledore and Gandalf, both of them standing behind them. Both of them with their arms neatly folded behind their backs and both of them with the same deathly serious glance on their faces. They couldn't have looked more identical. 

"Why. . . why didn't you tell us?" Arwen began, stuttering. 

Dumbledore raised his eyebrow. 

"I assumed you knew." 

"That's not funny." Arwen said seriously. 

"Indeed it is not," interjected Gandalf. "But the truth of the matter is, nothing about our situation is at all humorous." 

"Why don't you follow me to my office. I can introduce you to the Professors later." Dumbledore said, gesturing down the hallway.   
  


Arwen and Legolas sat before Dumbledore in his glorious office room feeling like children. Their eyes wandered carefully around the room to marvel at the hundreds, perhaps thousands of books encircled in the spacious room. Sitting perched on a large birdcage in the corner of the room, a flaming red orange phoenix looked on at Arwen and Legolas with sweet curiosity. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, while Gandalf leaned against a bookshelf comfortably. Funny, even in a new world, Gandalf's posture still suggested that he might leap up any second and jump onto a grey magical horse. 

"I understand you have questions, and I will answer them as best as I can." 

There was an awkward silence as Arwen and Legolas looked at each other sheepishly for half a second, before; 

"Why the hell does everybody keep calling me Mrs.?" Arwen blurted out in a frustrated voice. "I mean, is there something I'm missing here? Because if I remember correctly-" 

"My sweet girl, in this world widows are still referred to as 'Mrs.'" said Gandalf kindly. 

"Even after over five thousand years of being a widow?" 

"Why not?" 

"There's something you're still not telling me. If it was such a big deal-" 

"Which it isn't. I do believe you have more . . relavent questions for the Professor, eh?" 

Arwen sighed, feeling foolish. "My apologies, Headmaster." 

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said with a warm smile, leaning forward. 

"Let me begin by asking you a question, if I may?" 

That raised the eyebrows of the elves, but they shrugged it off. 

"Okay. . ." 

"Sure. . . " 

He paused. 

"How old do you think I am?" 

Arwen and Legolas looked at the Headmaster, and then at Gandalf, and then finally at each other before they started laughing. 

"What?!" Legolas asked. 

"You will do me no offense, take a guess." 

Arwen shrugged at him, a large smile still on her face. 

"Ninety?" 

"Flattery will get you nowhere, my dear." Gandalf muttered loud enough for her to hear. 

"A hundred?" poked Legolas. 

Dumbledore shook his head. 

"Three hundred?" suggested Arwen, calming her chuckles. 

He shook his head again. 

"Nine hundred?!" boasted Legolas incredulously. 

Dumbledore gave another shake. 

Suddenly, it wasn't funny anymore. 

"A thousand?" 

"Three thousand?" 

"Closer, but not quite there." 

Arwen and Legolas looked at each other, baffled. 

"I am twenty thousand years old." he said calmly when they didn't answer. 

The elves gaped. 

"I am the second oldest wizard on this planet. . . next to him," he motioned to Gandalf. Gandalf grinned. 

"I am the Tender of Beasts. I am the Maiar of Yavanna. I am Radagast the Brown, last of the Istari." 

Gandalf cleared his throat. 

"Next to him, anyway." he added kindly. 

Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and leaned closer to Legolas across the desk, his eyes now vibrantly clear enough to read and be read. 

"You are Legolas Greenleaf. A Prince of the Silvan elves. Son of the trees of Mirkwood and of the Great King Thranduil. You are a friend of the dwarves, protector of the Fellowship, and warrior of the Third Age." 

He turned to Arwen. 

"You are Arwen Evenstar, daughter of Elrond Halfelven and grandaughter of Galadriel of the Galadhrim. You are a lady of the the prominent elven kindreds. You are the Queen of Gondor and wife the King. You too, are a warrior of the third age." 

The elves sat before this man. . no, this, this wizard god in complete shock. The only thing that they could clearly think of was what fools they must have appeared to be before him. But apparently, no such thought came to Gandalf or Dumbledore. 

"Now," Dumbledore continued. "that we have this all straightened out, let me tell you now our situation. You are aware that there are Black Riders on the grounds. Not just two, but seven more. Hagrid knows nothing of this, and I ask you to keep it in the strictist confidence. Agreed?" 

The elves nodded numbly. 

"Second, the obvious reason that the Riders have returned is due to the resurfacing of the One Ring, which undoubtedly, you have just recently discovered. This too, is to be held in strict confidence, agreed?" 

"Yes." murmured Legolas, becoming vocal again. 

"Now, to further this, I will tell you only what you need to know, the rest, you will find out in certain time. Somehow, Voldemort has found a way to . . duplicate the One Ring onto our present time. Now, the only way he could wield such power is if he had obtained blueprints, if you will, from Sauron. Therefore, we believe that since the riders have returned, so has Sauron. However, when Voldemort created this Ring, about seven months ago, it was lost from him, and it is now believed that a child, between the ages of 11 and 17 has the One Ring in his or possession. A wizard or witch to be precise, and a wizard or witch soon to be attending Hogwarts this semester. We do not know who, but whoever it is, is at risk for serious danger from both sides. Now, several days ago, we received information that whatever alliance Voldemort and Sauron had, is now gone, and not only do we have one powerful evil to combat, but two powerful evils to combat." 

"You see," said Gandalf, chiming in. "You were not the only creatures brought back. You see, this is all a game of chess. The first move was started by Voldemort, prompting more unseen dark forces to send in Sauron, the riders, and Valar knows who else. These moves and MANY more prompted the Valar to send in you, me, and him," he motioned to Dumbledore, who raised an eybrow . 

" . . . although, he's all ready been here for over five thousand years. This game of chess will not be over for some time. Valar and their connections are constantly sending reinforcements from the second and most prominently, third ages. Some familiar some not, some noticable, others so subtle you will never even know they helped you." 

"Now, as to what you are to do." continued Dumbledore. 

Arwen and Legolas leaned forward, expecting something dangerous, cunning, and bold. 

"Arwen, you are to watch, listen and hypothesize." 

Arwen nodded understandingly. 

"Watch the students. Pick up on any paranoia, fear, irrational fears, obsession, weight loss, lack of sleep, anything that could elude to suspicion of carrying the Ring. Use Legolas as well, he knows the effects almost as well as Gandalf, and he will be with you at all times. Listen to the voices inside their heads, their conscience, their fears, their masks of uncertainty. Granted, you haven't the development of telepathy that your foremother has, but you're quite good at it. Finally, hypothesize. One of the reasons you were selected by Valar, my dear, was because of your uncanny awareness. Whoever you trust or do not trust will be taken into mind by me without question." 

Arwen took a moment to think about the responsibility, and then nodded at Dumbledore, accepting her title. 

"As for you, Young Alexander," Dumbledore turned to Legolas. 

"You protect. Arwen, the blissfully ignorant faculty, and above all, the students. You are to use your elven awareness as well, but not on the same level as Arwen. Help each other, though. If one of you feels unsafe, then chances are the other one of you knows why or feels the same. Trust only Arwen, me, my staff, and Gandalf. If for some reason, you do not trust one of my staff, you are to come directly to me. Now, I understand I spoke to you this afternoon about 'resources'. I also understand that it is impossible for you to do your job here without those resources. So," 

Dumbledore leaned under his desk and pulled out two long white knives, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. 

"Here they are." 

Legolas heard himself sigh as Dumbledore passed his old companions to him with the utmost care and touch. As soon as his hands touched the sheath of his knife, Legolas felt whole again. Upon closer inspection, Legolas discovered that these arrows were actually his! The bow was his bow! The knives were his knives! But where on earth had he gotten these when they had been a complete plane of existence away!? 

"How did you. . . ?" he began, eyes wide, hands stroking his quiver. 

Gandalf smiled. 

"It is all part of the game of chess, my boy." 

"And for the lady. . ." 

Arwen's eyes widened as Dumbledore reached again under his desk and pulled out a long curved blade and a bow and quiver of arrows. 

He handed the weapons to her not as if she could be hurt by them, but as if she could merely throw her power unto them and hurt others! 

Arwen took up the sword and smiled softly with remembrance. 

"_Gwemegil_." she murmured warmly, admiring the beauty of the sword in the sunlight. 

"Just in case Legolas is too busy thwarting off dangerous creatures. . ." Dumbledore said, planning on prompting a reaction out of Arwen. 

Arwen looked up at him and smirked. 

"Or showing off." she said sourly with humor. 

Legolas merely flickered his eyes back at her with a raised eyebrow. 

At this little show of character, Dumbledore and Gandalf looked at one another. 

"Well, Radagast, it seems the clever Undomiel and the ever charming Greenleaf have returned at last. Perhaps it had something to do with their questions being answered." 

"Though some of them yet remain." Legolas said softly. 

"Then you know that whatever those questions may be, they will be answered in short time." replied Dumbledore. 

There was a silence in Dumbledore's office before Gandalf spoke once again. 

"I will not be here when the term starts in two weeks. I leave you to each other's guidance and trust." 

"But, where are you going?" asked Legolas, concerned. 

"Journeys, my friend. Journeys. But I will return. On Halloween, Christmas, and ides of March. Expect me then, and no other time." 

Dumbledore stood up and the elves mimicked him respectfully. 

"I suppose we ought to return down to the Dining Hall. Professor Snape and I need to have a chat as well. But remember when you return and introduce yourselves-" 

"_Mrs_. Cassandra Averill-" 

"-and Mr. Alexander Harrison." 

Dumbledore smiled at them, and then began to exit with the elves. 

"Oh, I almost forgot. The last of your resources is somewhere in the stables, Gandalf will show you." 

He then exited.   
  
  


Arwen, Legolas, and Gandalf grinned at each other, and then looked back at the horses with the utmost happiness. 

"Asfaloth." Arwen said, patting her old friend on the nose, while he nuzzled at her, welcoming her back. 

"Shadowfax." Gandalf nodded in the direction of his majestic grey horse, and the horse in turn nodded at him. 

Legolas raised an eyebrow at his horse. 

"Arod." 

The horse snorted at him. 

"Ah, remember, it was Gimli, not I that gave you the trouble." 

Arod paused, before nibbling Legolas's robe tenderly, forgiving him for their last encounter. 

Arwen smiled at Legolas again as she mussed Asfaloth's pure silky mane. 

"This is going to be a very, very interesting semester, don't you agree, Professor Harrison?" 

"I quite agree, Professor Averill."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. In which screwing with the minds of the ...

Outside of the stables, Gandalf sat perched atop Shadowfax, while Arwen and Legolas stood a few feet below on the ground. 

"I will return on Halloween, expect me at the stroke of one that morning." 

"What are we to do until then?" asked Legolas. 

"The Headmaster and I are concerned about how Voldemort and Sauron's minions are getting from a plane of non-existence to Hogwarts. The Nazgul appeared about three months ago, unknown to Hagrid, of course, and Dumbledore has been searching for a portal since then, but has failed to find any. Before any more unexplained appearances of Middle Earth creatures surface again, we need you to look for the source for where these creatures are coming from." 

"I'm a bit confused." said Legolas. "If I remember correctly, Arwen and I just. . . fell out of the sky, isn't that where Sauron would be sending through his pawns?" 

"Ah, but you forget that you have been sent by Mandos and the Valar. They place you where they see fit, and the locations of your up and coming allies will vary as to avoid tracking by both the Ministry of Magic and Voldemort and Sauron. Sauron knows that neither the Ministry nor Voldemort can track his pawns without the them doing harm to themselves first." 

"So we're looking where Sauron is teleporting these creatures." Arwen stated. 

Gandalf nodded as he smiled down at the two elves. 

"You are to look for things and places that can be used as portals from one world to this world. Now, it has also been decided that while you are ever searching for the Ring-bearer, you are to be entrusted and informed on other things that will help you combat the evil forces that both Sauron and Voldemort are enforcing. The Professors here have all the information you need, but you need to be subtle about how you ask for it, understand?" 

The elves nodded. 

Gandalf paused. 

"You. . . do know what you need from the Professors, yes?" 

Arwen nodded. 

"I think we've pretty much figured that out." 

"Dare I ask how you know?" 

"We have our resources." 

Arwen smiled naïvely. 

"Another thing, the forests here are very peculiar. That angelic curiosity that the elves have will no doubt lead you there in short time, but be cautious. There are things in there that you and only you know exist, and those things can be hazardous to the wizards and witches here. You are to bring your weapons with you whenever you come outside, and under no circumstances are you to let anyone follow you, especially the children." 

"Finally, your first assignment after you obtain the information you need from the Professors is to travel to Diagon Alley. Do this after getting permission from the Headmaster and after earning the trust of his staff, but before the semester starts, preferably a week before. While you will need several items from the shops in Diagon Alley;" Gandalf pulled out a battered looking scroll from inside his shaggy robes and handed it to Legolas. 

"you will more importantly need to start observing the children. Particularly at the bookstore Flourish and Blotts. That is where you will meet most of the children you will be teaching this next semester. Do not tell them that you are the new Professors at Hogwarts, that will cause them to remember you more distinctly and be aware of you, so try and act as normal as possible." 

"If that's possible." muttered Legolas. 

"Is there anything else you want to tell us Gandalf?" Arwen asked, feeling as if there were something else he should say. 

"I do. Stay out of the Forbidden Forest at night and stay inside when it rains," 

The elves paused awkwardly, but nodded nonetheless. 

"Remember, the stroke of one on Halloween. No earlier, no later. I bid you luck, and farewell." 

"Farewell Master Gandalf." Arwen kneeled. 

"Farewell Gandalf." Legolas kneeled. 

And with that, Shadowfax leapt off onto the path and into the veiled darkness of the woods. 

Arwen and Legolas looked at each other and smiled softly as they rose to their feet 

"I do suppose we ought to be getting inside. Dumbledore acts as though this feast tonight is in our honor." 

"I don't see why it would be though, Alexander," said Arwen, walking with Legolas back onto the path that would lead them into the castle grounds. 

"Hogwarts has had so many Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors, you'd think they'd know better than to get too attached to them." 

"It does fascinate me though," replied Legolas. "That Professor Snape has been passed up numerous times for the position." 

"What do you think of him? A threat, perhaps?" ventured Arwen. 

Legolas shook his head. 

"He's intimidating, and isn't the most charismatic man, but there's something there, like-" 

"He's compensating for something." Arwen finished for him. 

Legolas smiled at her. "You read my mind." 

"And then some." 

"But what I don't understand is what is he compensating for?" 

"He suspects us, Alexander." 

"He thinks we know about his Dark Mark?" 

Arwen nodded. 

"He doesn't think, he knows we know. I believe that I made too strong of an impression on him this afternoon, I let too much on about myself. He's quite suspicious now, I know." 

"Something of that nature is bound to happen after not using such a skill for a long period of time. It won't happen again, Cassandra. Let it go." 

"Yes, I suppose so. Now, which Professors do we need to impress on?" 

Legolas thought about this as he opened the Main Hall open wide and allowed Arwen to pass before himself. 

The two elves positioned themselves carefully along the corridor that led into the Main Hall. Legolas put himself with his back up to the wall, while Arwen peered into the Hall in such a way not to attract attention to herself. She looked almost. . . invisible. 

"Sinistra, Astronomy;" he said. 

Arwen looked into the Main Hall and spotted a beautiful young woman sitting next to the Charms Professor, Flitwick and sipping a glass of wine. 

"She's lonely, insecure, but funny, charming, friendly, and kind." Arwen paused. "_You _deal with her." 

Legolas grinned. 

"McGonnagall, Transfiguration;" 

Arwen paused as she searched the bustling crowd of Professors and found Minevera McGonnagall sitting quietly beside Professor Flitwick, quietly forking her dinner. 

"She's had a hard life . . " Arwen murmured. 

"But she is wise. Very wise. Keep your tongue around her, Alexander. It will take her time to warm up to us, but it can be done. Why don't you take care of her, she all ready recognizes you. You can build on that." 

"Sprout; Herbology," 

Arwen squinted her eyes at the short, stumpy jolly woman in her mid forties. She had rosy cheeks and a sweet smile as she was happily chatting away with Hagrid. 

"She's a soft woman, one bad student with puppy eyes will send her off the edge. She'll be all right, so long as you do not cross her plants." 

"Believe me, that's the last thing we want." 

"Naturally. You or me?" 

"Why don't you do it?" 

"Why?" 

"You're the daughter of the most incredible healer we've ever known. Why not you?" 

"You're a charming young man who grew up eating poisonous plants in his own back yard, why not _you_?" 

Legolas sighed. 

"I forfeit." 

"Who's next?" 

"'Hagrid', Care of Magical Creatures." 

Arwen smiled as she looked the giant man over. 

"I'd like to ask him a few questions, actually." 

"Quite fine with me. Snape, Potions;" 

Arwen's keen eyes scanned the horizon for Snape, and found him listening distastefully to a rant of Filch's. Arwen's eyes tightened and released. 

"He will be the trickiest of them all. He's a wondrous judge of character; incredible. He's reclusive, and hard, but he's also had a hard life." 

Snape's cold black eyes suddenly snapped over to where Arwen was standing, as if he'd known she'd been there the whole time. Arwen didn't flinch an muscle as Snape looked at her distrustfully with his piercing cold eyes. 

"So much loss. . ." Arwen murmured, tilting her head thoughtfully to one side. 

"Me or you?" murmured Legolas quietly. 

Snape moved his boaring glare off of Arwen, being drawn into attention by Dumbledore's conversation. 

"If it doesn't bother you, Alexander, I should like to deal with him." 

"No argument here. Let's go inside, shall we?"   
  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  


"Harrison. . . Harrison. . . now where have I heard that name before?" pondered Professor Sinistra over her cup of pumpkin juice. Not surprisingly, Sinistra was a beautiful and sweet woman, just as Arwen had told Legolas she was. Not to mention Legolas immediately took a liking to her. Granted, she was a bit odd, but that was to be expected here, and the minute Legolas had introduced himself to the young Professor, he knew she trusted him. 

Legolas smiled blankly. 

"It's not a very common name here, but it's more of Wales name." 

Sinistra laughed and nodded. 

"Oh, I see. So how did you come to be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Harrison?" 

"Please, do call me Alexander, Alex for short. Well, it was mere chance that Cassandra and I got the job, oh she's right over there, chatting with Hagrid." 

Sinistra leaned over to get a good glimpse of the young lady and gasped when she saw her. 

"My! She's beautiful!" her mouth gaped. "Is she veela?" 

Legolas laughed. 

"Oh, heavens no. But back to your previous question, I do say fate was shining on us the day Dumbledore gave us a position, it was as if it was just coincidence." 

The smile that was on Sinistra face fell softly, and she shook her head. 

"The Headmaster does not chose his staff lightly, especially Professors in your positions. With all due respect, Alexander, you and your cousin were very, very carefully selected." 

Legolas merely smiled softly and the woman's most sincere words as he pretended to take them in with great consideration. 

After a moment, Sinistra sighed. 

"Oh dear, it's getting late, I had better head back up to the tower. I have charts to go over." 

"Ah yes, before you go, could you do me a large favor?" 

"If it is in my power, I would be delighted." 

"Yes, well, if you could look something in your records for me, I'm looking for a star, it's a morning star, but it only comes out on Christmas Eve. Have you perchance heard of such a thing?" 

Sinistra thought about this question and a look of intense curiosity came over her face as she searched deeper and deeper into her Astronomical knowledge. 

"Morning star on Christmas Eve? I can't remember ever hearing of such a thing, but. . . . I can look it up. If I might be as so bold as to ask why?" 

Legolas smiled softly. 

"Well, let's just say, my family has a natural love of the stars." 

"Oh. . ." murmured Sinistra with an understanding smile on her face, "Well, I will do my best. It was a pleasure to meet you, Professor Harrison, I will see you at the faculty meeting tomorrow." 

"Goodnight Professor Sinistra." 

She turned to leave, but Legolas's soft voice stopped her in her tracks. 

"May a star shine on the hour of our meeting." 

Sinistra turned around. 

"What did you say?" 

Legolas still had a small, sweet smile on his face with his fingers idly propping up his chin. 

"It's a family greeting and farewell. I thought you'd like it." 

Sinistra smiled. 

"I do. Very much. Thank you. . ." 

She smiled at him a bit longer, and then slowly exited.   
  
  
  
  


"Amazing what you have done here, Hagrid. It's not everyday you find a man who knows the world of beasts like you." Arwen said honestly. She was very impressed with this man, to say the least. 

Hagrid, who towered a good seven feet above Arwen, gave a rosy blush as he smiled humbly. 

"Aw, now, that en't so true." 

"Ah, but it is. All modesty aside, I don't think I've encountered a man with your knowledge for a good long time." 

Hagrid raised his eyebrows, obviously interested. 

"Really?" 

Arwen nodded. 

"Hmm. 'ow bout that? Er, so you say you've had experience in. . . my field, Madame Averill?" 

"Please, it's Cassandra. And yes, a twinge of it." 

"So. . ." Hagrid lowered his voice as inconspicuously as he could and bowed a bit lower to Arwen's head so they wouldn't be heard. 

"You say you an yer cousin know what this black sword business is all about? What do you thinks goin' on?" 

Arwen was silent, waiting for Hagrid to continue. 

"Cuz if you ask me, I think there's trouble abrewing, not just some old animal or prank some guffaws from Hogsmeade come up with all of er sudden. I think it's the work of. . well, you know." 

Arwen sighed. 

"Well Hagrid, I don't believe I'm at liberty to say just yet, but I will tell you something. . ." 

Arwen leaned closer into Hagrid, and he in turn leaned even more curiously into the young lady's speaking range. 

"One good twist of brandy, and this pumpkin juice would have one hell of a kick." she whispered secretively. 

Hagrid slowly leaned back, a bit bewildered, but once he saw the expression on Arwen's face, he couldn't help but double over in laughter at the Professor's witty comment. She soon joined him, and the two soon began jeering on other subjects. 

"But in all seriousness, Hagrid, I do have a few questions for you. . ." 

Hagrid smiled broadly at the show of interest Arwen was giving his most favored topic, and motioned for her to go on. 

"In the forbidden forest, do you know of any marshes?" 

Hagrid was baffled by this question. 

"Marshes?" he repeated, uncertainly. 

Arwen nodded. 

"Marshes, natural canals, streams, anything a snake or . . . unnatural creature could easily transport his or her self through to get to the school." 

Hagrid sighed, thinking over the Forbidden Forest. 

"Well, er. . . there are marshes, Professor, but they're so deep into the woods, tha' I really don' think much could get through to the school, not even the most direction sensed creature'd find a way to the school. Bleedin' near impossible, I'd say." 

Arwen paused. 

"But there are marshes." 

"Indeed there are, and mighty dangerous ones they are too. Once went out trying to get me some of the hornswagglers that only live deep in those bleedin woods, and almost ended up drowning in one of the swamps. Awful it is, I'd keep a mind to stay out a there, Professor." 

Arwen thought, and then nodded.   
  
  
  


"Hello Professor Harrison, how are you and Professor Averill settling in?" asked Minerva McGonnagall as Legolas sat down next to her at the teacher's table. 

Legolas smiled softly as he helped himself to some pumpkin juice. 

"Quite nicely, actually. But, so far, I've only spoken to a handful of Professors. I don't think I've ever felt so. . . well, at home!" 

McGonnagall smiled as she took a bite out of her lamb chops. 

"I'm impressed. Most new Professors take months to get comfortable here, and some don't even get used to life at a school such as this. Perhaps you will change your mind when you meet the students." McGonnagall said the last part almost as if she were trying to hide a chuckle, as if she knew something he didn't. 

"Really, now? Are your students really that bad?" 

"Oh, heavens no. There are the select few with er. . . redeeming qualities, but all the rest are quite well behaved." 

"And your the head of Gryffindor House, is that so?" 

"Yes," McGonnagall said with a bit of pride. 

"A wonderful house to sorted into." 

"As are all the rest." 

"Ah yes, the rest. I do beg your pardon, but I need to have a little question of the Hogwarts Houses answered. Can you help me?" 

McGonnagall's fork stopped halfway from her plate to her mouth as she looked at Legolas oddly. 

"I'm not so sure you should be asking me, Professor. Professor Flitwick-" 

"-Is of course a very able Professor, but I'd much rather ask the Deputy Headmistress." Legolas smiled sweetly. 

McGonnagall, however, was still not so sure what this young man was all about, and with a most frustrated sigh, McGonnagall set her fork down with an aggravated look and focused all her attention on Legolas. 

"Are you sure I don't know you? Did you not come here as a student?" 

Legolas laughed. 

"My good Professor, if I had known about Hogwarts when I was eleven, I would have committed myself to St. Mungo's. . . oh wait. . .!" 

"You were raised muggle, then?" 

"More or less, but back to my question. . ." 

"Oh yes, well, I don't really know if I can help you Professor, but I will certainly try." 

Legolas smiled appreciatively and leaned into McGonnagall, attentive as a schoolboy and began talking in a low voice. 

"The House founders, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, and Godric Gryffindor together founded this school, correct?" 

"Yes, that's basic knowledge." 

"Of course, just straightening things out a bit. Do you know if the founders founded their houses before or after building the castle?" 

McGonnagall paused. 

"I really haven't the slightest idea, but I suppose it could be either one of those options. Is that all?" 

"No actually; Salazar Slytherin created the Chamber of Secrets, did he not?" 

"He did." 

". . . and; Tom Riddle came to school here 50 years ago, yes?" 

McGonnagall paused, examining Legolas closely and sharply. 

"Hmm. Interesting." 

McGonnagall continued staring at him a bit disconnectedly for a moment or two before going back to her meal an changing the topic. 

"Your cousin is a very beautiful young lady; veela?" 

Legolas paused, with a bemused smile. 

"No, actually. She has just. . . always been very lovely." 

"I'm sure. Her last name is Averill? Hmm, name sounds familiar. . . I wonder if her husband works at the Ministry." 

Legolas softly cleared his throat and shook his head. 

"No, I'm afraid he's been dead for some time now." 

McGonnagall's face suddenly turned soft and for a moment or two, Legolas thought he saw something vaguely resembling understanding. It disappeared, however, as she slowly turned back to her food. 

"Oh. How awful, especially for such a young girl. . . what was his profession?" 

Legolas couldn't help but laugh warmly. 

"Oh, heavens. . . what didn't he do? He was a healer, an exceptional leader, a scholar, a traveler, a peacemaker. . . just about anything you can think of!" 

McGonnagall smiled softly. 

"What was the cause of his death?" 

Legolas almost didn't know how to respond. What was he supposed to say? 'He died of old age, you know, three hundred years old'? No. Better be safe and be vague. 

"Cassandra doesn't like to talk about it." he said simply.   
  
  
  


"Professor Snape." 

Snape whirled around to meet the dark midnight eyes of that cumbersome Professor Averill. Snape glowered at her for surprising him in such a way and in his mind Snape thought of all the things Potter and his friends were going to get these new dunderheads fired. But this Professor unnerved Snape in a very odd way; it was the formality of grace that both of the Professors carried when they walked, talked, and watched. He had exchanged one conversation with this woman and all ready he knew that perhaps Professor Dumbledore had more plans this year for You-Know-Who than he let on, and the two strange Professors were evidence enough for that. However, this did not change that fact that they both still bothered Snape quite badly. Especially the woman right now; she seemed perfectly all right with the way Snape was trying to demean her with his eyes. And good hell if she wasn't as infuriating as his Gryffindor students. 

"Professor Averill." he acknowledged in his most surly voice. 

"I was wondering if I might ask you a Potions question or two." 

Snape looked at her bitterly with the smallest hint of curiosity; and suddenly Snape discovered he was at a loss for words or witty insults or degrading comments; so he did the only thing that seemed sensible. He said nothing. 

"You see, my cousin has a bit of a queasy stomach when it comes to Apparation and Portkey," 

Snape snorted sourly, but Arwen ignored him. 

"and he doesn't find travel at all pleasant, and I was wondering if there was anything that could help him? A dose of Athmatic Powdered Lily, perhaps?" 

Snape raised an eyebrow. 

"Perhaps your cousin should try traveling by a broomstick, Professor." he suggested dourly. 

Arwen seemed to actually think about it, but sighed resolutely. 

"While Alex is a masterful Seeker, Professor, traveling by broomstick is a bit, well, dull to him." 

Snape glared at her, while Arwen casually sipped her pumpkin juice. 

"Powdered Lily is only for frightfully catastrophic cases of delirium and it does have some rather nasty side affects, as you _should_ know." Snape said, trying to be condescending. 

Arwen apparently caught on to his tone and politely matched his manner. 

"Then perhaps a mixture of Willow Root and Mecham's Barkweed would be sufficient, no?" 

Snape examined her meticulously before coming to a bold conclusion. 

"This is obviously not a normal case of motion sickness, Professor." Snape said sarcastically. 

Arwen's blue eyes glittered as she decided to have a little fun. Taking a casual sip of her pumpkin juice, she pretended to be distracted by something in the corner of her eye. 

_Alexander isn't exactly a normal person, Professor._

Snape's eyes widened as his hand shot to his temple as the Professor's voice snaked into his mind. He looked at Professor Averill with hard and confused eyes as she slowly turned back to him. 

"Did you say something, Professor Averill?" Snape asked in a soft venomous voice. 

Arwen pretended to be surprised by his tone of voice, and feigned her best innocently frightened and confused look. 

"Did I?" 

Snape was not having the fun that Arwen was, but he could just as easily. 

"Willow Root and Mecham's Barkweed together are highly effective. Except in such a way that they make a potent elixir for the unconscious, Professor Averill." seethed Snape. 

He was on to her before she had even begun. 

Arwen only lowered her gaze and let the corner of her lip curl slightly in mischief. 

"Oh, is it? Silly me." 

Snape didn't buy it for a second. 

"May I ask you a personal question, Professor Snape?" 

Snape bit back a snarl as he did his best to bear down the penetrating look Professor Averill was obviously intentionally sending. 

"No." spat Snape uncouthly. 

Arwen tilted her head at this as thought for a moment, and then to Snape's further annoyance, she then casually resumed her normal posture and took another sip of her pumpkin juice 

_Just how old were you when Voldemort permanently branded you with that symbol of destruction on your upper arm?_

Snape physically lurched at the sudden intrusion of Professor Averill's calm voice into his mind. He looked around himself cautiously to see if anyone else had heard what he had just heard. Apparently not. 

"Is something wrong, Professor Snape?" Professor Averill asked. 

Snape looked up at her and almost hexed her for the look on her face. She seemed so genuinely concerned and clueless, so utterly innocent. Snape knew then he needed to watch these two Professors. Very. Carefully. 

"I'm fine." stated the Professor dully. 

Arwen smiled softly, looking a bit unsure and then sighed sounding bored, looking over to where Professor Sprout was happily chirping away at Legolas. 

"Perhaps another time then." 

"I beg your pardon?" Snape asked, not sounding the least big apologetic. 

Arwen turned back to him. 

"Perhaps I can ask you a question another time?" she said seriously. 

Snape merely looked at her. 

_Over my dead body. . . _he thought sourly. 

Arwen smiled sweetly. 

_Believe me Professor, if I wanted to know that badly, I could quite simply arrange that._

Snape choked. 

"A pleasure, I'm sure." 

And she was gone.   
  
  
  


"Well, as a child, I tried to eat a lot of the weeds in our backyard . ." Legolas reflected, thinking about all those times in Mirkwood where, as a very young elf, he had tried eating almost everything and anything that looked edible. 

Sprout gasped, but said nothing. 

"But of course, a simple lesson from my mother kept me far away from such things as mandrakes and bleeding cut hearts." 

Sprout gasped horrifically. 

"You. . . tried to eat a mandrake?" 

"Well, I was vaguely aware that the mandrake itself was. . . animated. So it was hardly fair to me." 

The poor woman continued to look at Legolas, terrified, before she began giggling uncontrollably. Legolas smiled at the jolly woman as she did this, but pretended to be hurt. 

"My dear woman, it really is of no laughing matter!" 

As she laughed, Professor Sprout snorted giddily. 

"Oh, oh, dear, please do forgive me, I mean no disrespect, but the idea of a child simply attempting to eat a mandrake is. . . well, simply a marvel and a hoot to visualize!" 

Legolas laughed at the charming woman and sipped his pumpkin juice casually as she came down from her height of laughter. 

As Sprout looked at him, he looked at her questioningly for a moment before seemingly changing his mind about something, shaking his head, and taking another drink from his pumpkin juice. 

"Something the matter, my boy?" Sprout asked him warmly. 

Legolas looked at her a little closely with squinted eyes and sighed as if deciding whether or not to ask his question. 

"It's simply. . . " he trailed off. 

"Go on!" she urged sweetly. 

Legolas sighed again. 

"Madame Sprout, you say you grow nearly _every _type of herb here on Hogwarts grounds?" 

Sprout proudly beamed. 

"Every type that is in classification in the wizarding and muggle world, Professor." 

"Then perhaps you could tell me if there is any atheleas on the school grounds?" 

Sprout's face suddenly became unreadable, but her eyes were a different story to Legolas. She was obviously trying to hide something, whether it was fear, curiosity, suspicion, or doubt, Legolas could only guess, but one thing was for certain, she wasn't exactly proud of its existence. 

"That is a weed, my boy." 

"I understand that." 

Sprout sighed. 

"I believe there are some clumps of it growing behind Hagrid's hut. We've been trying to get rid of it forever, cumbersome, useless weeds. . . I also believe there are some patches of it in the Forest, but none in the areas that I usually tend to. What on earth what you want with such a dull weed?" 

Legolas paused. 

"It's a strange coincidence that brings me to it, I'll perhaps tell you the story sometime." 

"Or perhaps, you should just ask me." 

Legolas and Sprout turned to see Arwen standing to their right, idly sipping her pumpkin juice. 

Sprout gasped when she saw the young lady appear out of nowhere, while Legolas merely raised an eyebrow. 

"Good heavens, child!" breathed Sprout, putting her hand to her forehead and closing her eyes. "You shouldn't sneak up on someone like that!" 

Arwen smiled warmly as she came to Legolas' side. 

"My apologies, Professor," said Arwen apologetically. 

"Oh, that's quite all right. Oh, blast, I do hope you will forgive me, but I must be running along, some of the night daisies get rather hungry this time of night and start eating each other. Someone's got to break them up, right?" 

Legolas and Arwen laughed as she turned to leave. 

"Oh, Professor, may I ask you a quick question?" Arwen asked. 

Sprout turned with a small smile on her face, "Go on, dear." 

Arwen paused. 

"Have you by chance heard of a rare flower, an elanor?" 

Sprout paused, very confused. 

"I don't believe I have. But there are hundreds of thousands of uncatergorized flowers and plants in the Forbidden Forest, perhaps Hagrid would guide you to an extent into the woods." 

With that, she left, and Arwen turned back to Legolas with a smile. 

"I feel quite fatigued, cousin." 

Legolas smiled thoughtfully. 

"Perhaps we should find our dormitories, eh?" 

Legolas offered her his arm, and she gracefully took it and the two made their way over to Dumbledore, who too, was just exiting. 

"Oh, Professor!" called Arwen as they came within his earshot. 

Dumbledore looked to them, and smiled kindly as they approached him. 

"I do believe we need to find our room." 

"Ah, of course, I do apologize. Things are getting a bit hectic around this school, I forget simple things like these." 

"Quite all right," Legolas said kindly. 

The three exited the hall and soon were making their way up the staircases and hallways. Soon, they entered a hall on the second floor that was made mainly up of doors. Many doors, of many colors. The teacher's dormitories were located in a tower at the east end of the school. It seemed as if the teacher's dormitories were the center of it all, for they were located in such a way that any location in the castle was only three minutes away. Including the house dorms, kitchens, Dining Hall, everywhere. Arwen and Legolas took note that soon, this would come in very handy. 

"Here we are," Dumbledore said lightly as he pulled out an ivory key and stopped before a red door. 

As the door opened, Dumbledore gave Legolas the key and smiled. 

"I would be most delighted if I could have you for tea tomorrow, Professor Harrison." 

Legolas paused momentarily, trying to decipher Dumbledore's intentions by looking into his eyes, but the Headmaster reflected nothing. 

"Oh, yes. That would be lovely." 

Dumbledore turned to Arwen. 

"My dear, I would be most appreciative if you could run a small errand for me tomorrow as well. Seven, tomorrow morning, in my office for tea?" 

"Certainly." Arwen said quite trustingly. 

"Ah, splendid. Well, this old fool has an appointment with a warm feather pillow and a book. Goodnight Professors, I hope you have settled in." 

Arwen and Legolas smiled at Dumbledore for the first time that evening as Legolas and Arwen, not as Alexander and Cassandra. He in return smiled at them as Radagast. . . or was it Dumbledore? Perhaps there was no difference in character for him. As Dumbledore disappeared down the dark hallway, humming a soft tune, Arwen and Legolas went into their dorms. 

Before taking in any surroundings and before making any mental note of their new living conditions, the two elves turned to each other quickly. 

"Ladies first." said Legolas politely. 

Arwen raised an eyebrow for a moment, and then proceeded to talk. 

"There are marshes in the Forest, if he's not there now, Gollum will be there in the future. I suggest we go there once the semester starts and do some investigating ourselves; beside that Hagrid is very reclusive when it comes to discussing creatures that dwell in forest that he doesn't know about; which is alluding to something in my mind. If Snape didn't trust us before now, he does after tonight. I gave him a good lesson on telepathy and a polite reminder on the Potions ingredients that we will most likely be using this semester. He really, really doesn't like me. I think I'd better stop picking on the poor man for a while. . . How did you do?" 

Legolas smiled. 

"Sinistra has me tapped for a certain Morning Star that comes on Christmas, I should expect to hear back from her on the subject sometime soon, whether or not this idea will work is a mystery to me. But if it does, then we have more allies than we think. Amazing what Astronomy does for some people, isn't it? As for McGonnagall, she really doesn't know what to think of me. She knows there's something funny about us, even asked if you were veela, but I guess the woman's just too polite to surface those suspicions. I got a brief history review on the school, and I think when it comes to looking for portals this place is the number one on the list to look." 

The two elves sighed, exhausted for the first time in a long time. 


	8. Calm Before the Storm

  


As the elves finished sharing their observations, they slowly turned to observe their new habitat. 

Their dormitory was lavishly decorated in such a way, that the elves were once again reminded, with a pang of longing, of their other homes. While no means large, the cozy dorm was adorned in a theme of burgundy that gave off a sense of style and elegance. The floor was carpeted in a lighter shade of burgundy, while the walls were painted gold and trimmed with light yellow. In the main room, a small love seat and chair were neatly placed beside a roaring fireplace, with a small footrest and table nearby. On the the right wall, a huge bookshelf was piled high with volumes of volumes of dusty and decaying books. On the left wall, was a huge bay window that led to an exquisite view of the edge of the lake and of the edge of the forest. Hagrid's hut was blocked by a few of the giant trees, but even so, the two could still see a subtle line of smoke arising into the air where his hut would be. Past the window, lay a small hall, containing three doors. Presumably, Arwen and Legolas' room, and a washroom. The main room was lit only with the moonlight which streamed through the huge window. 

"Cassandra. . .?" spoke Legolas out of the dark, his pale face illuminated serenely by the moon's glow. 

"Yes?" 

"Do you not find it curious that Professor Dumbledore would put us in a room with a precise view of both the lake and forest?" 

Arwen paused. 

"Now that you mention it, it does sound curious." Arwen said casually, making her way slowly over to the bookshelf. Idly, she picked up a dusty book from the third shelf. She read the spine, and a small smile touched her lips as she opened the book and started flipping through the pages. 

"Though, I do admit, I find our reading material much more interesting." 

She held up the book. 

"_The Riverside Shakespeare_," Arwen said. She put the book back and picked up another one as Legolas moved over to the bookshelf. 

"_Magical Herbs and Their Common Aliases_," she murmured drily as she put it back. 

Legolas sighed as he looked over the books as well. 

"_Ancient Medicines_, _Wandless Magic: Fact or Fiction?_, _Different Dimensions For Dummies_; I say, how kind of the Headmaster. Now, we needn't scavenge through the school's library to get what we need." 

Arwen smiled as she sighed and turned away from the books. 

"Well, Professor Harrison, it seems we have a big day tomorrow, shall we say goodnight?" 

"Goodnight, Cassandra."   
  
  


_Everything was just as he had remembered. The mallorn trees were lined with an ethereal silver glow, while the golden leaves wafted down from their limbs making the terrace even more elegant than before. In the distance, he could hear the siren like voices of the elves of Lorien, singing. He could smell the elanors and niphrendils in the clear air while larks sang out that it was morning amidst the cool sunrise that streamed through the larger than life trees. His desire to scale the towering trees and behold the sunrise would have overcome him, and had it not been for something else in his unsettled mind, he would have done it._

_"Legolas Greenleaf."_

_Legolas turned around to see her._

_Galadriel of the Galadhrim, clad in her beautiful ivory silk robes that illuminated her figure and eyes, stood before Legolas and before the infamous looking glass of Lothlorien._

_"Lady," Legolas bowed his head and kneeled._

_"Please, arise, my dear boy."_

_Legolas obeyed, and for the first time since his arrival in the Lorien, looked the Lady Galadriel in the eye. Yet, this time, there was no danger in her eyes, no suspicion, no vague references to fate or destruction. Instead, there was calm wariness. She was aware what was going on in the world. Both hers, and others._

_"Do I dream?" queried Legolas._

_"You do."_

_Galadriel moved around her pool and motioned for Legolas to sit as she sat down on her marble bench. Legolas followed her actions, still a bit dazed._

_"I am here to tell you only what I can."_

_Legolas nodded, but squinted a bit unsurely._

_"How do I get to you?" he asked anxiously._

_Galadriel smiled softly._

_"We are planes and planes away from one another, and it will not be easy. But you are right where you assume."_

_"The morning star on Christmas Eve. . . is that what you mean? Is that what will bring us to you?"_

_Galadriel said nothing, but her crystalline eyes twinkled._

_Legolas sighed as he looked away._

_"Sauron is watching you. He has two traitors on his rank, and he will use them as he sees fit." Galadriel's voice drew him back._

_"Gollum and Wormtongue?" Legolas asked._

_Again, the wise Queen said nothing._

_"Beware Tom Riddle. We underestimate him. He is of no comparison to the evil of Sauron, but he and his league pose a threat to the Ringbearer."_

_"Deatheaters, that is all he has, Lady Galadriel!" flustered Legolas, still not comprehending, "they are human, they pose no threat to things like the Ringwraiths and-" argued Legolas blindly._

_"You haven't allowed me to finish." Galadriel said firmly._

_Legolas swallowed, feeling quite foolish and rude._

_"I beg thee pardon."_

_Galadriel smiled crookedly._

_"Tom Riddle has enlisted remnants of the Third Age. . . you know of whom I speak, and who you must fight. Be wary of them, and be on your guard."_

_"Remnants? But all the remnants of the Third Age are Sauron's armies, not Voldemort's! Voldemort uses Deatheaters-"_

_"Evolution has taken place in the world in which you now habitat, Legolas Greenleaf. Elves are not part of that evolution, but humans are, and so are wizards. . . and other unnatural things."_

_Legolas thought._

_"Dementors. . .?"_

_"Derived from Sauron's demon Ringwraiths."_

_"How did they come into being?"_

_Galadriel paused._

_"I know only this; when Sauron controlled the Nine, he knew only that he needed them as long as he needed the Ring. After the Ring was destroyed, the Nine were never heard of or seen of again. This you know. After the elves departed the shores of Middle Earth, man merely assumed the Riders had been destroyed. When in reality, they had gone into hiding, into the heart of Mirkwood. And there they remained, and evolved into Dementors. Cold, and hungry for the souls of man. It is presumed that the Lord Voldemort obtained information about the One Ring from the Dementors, and that is where everything took a beginning."_

_Legolas's brow furrowed in confusion._

_"I don't understand. Since the Nazgul and Dementors are of the same line of magic but different planes of existence how is it possible that the Nazgul and Dementors can co-exist?"_

_Galadriel gave him a dark look._

_"It is isn't possible, Prince. Understand, that once the Dementors and Riders meet, they will clash. Dementors may have adapted to this new world and know it better than the Riders, but the Riders are the top of the dark magic. There is no defeating them, and no destroying them. Lord Voldemort has promise in his Dementors, however his knowledge of the Riders is scarce."_

_Legolas paused._

_"What you're saying is; Voldemort is going to try to use Sauron's own creations against him in order to obtain the Ring, but he will fail against the powers of the Riders?"_

_Galadriel remained silent for a moment, but shook her head._

_"Not just the Riders, Prince. There will be a great war soon between Sauron and Voldemort; good, from both worlds, will be caught in the middle of all of it. You must prevent this war, or at least. . . try and win what you can."_

_Legolas noted that his vision and hearing were getting fogged by another noise, a distant sound. Galadriel was getting further and further away and time was short._

_"Why do you speak to me and not your kin?"_

_There was a pause._

_"Evenstar occupies the dreams of another. . . Namarie, Son of Mirkwood. Remember what has passed between us. . ."_

_It was a faint whisper, so small and so quiet, Legolas was scarcely sure he had heard it. White clouds surrounded him, and all was quiet. . ._   
  
  
  
  
  


_ Suddenly, he was running in a forest. Invisible rocks and cruel weeds threatened his grace and agility as he sprinted through the forest. He was being chased. Darkness folded in around him, with only vague streams of light coming from here and there. He was running faster than he had ever ran before, for something threatened to catch up to him, to catch him. Legolas made careful to not look behind himself, for if he saw the creature chasing him, fear would seize his strong heart for just a split second, and he would fall. A snarl was heard from behind, and Legolas urged his long legs to take longer strides. But it was useless, as the snarl became louder, and more ferocious, Legolas felt his legs give way, and he tripped over himself and fell lightly to the ground._

_Legolas frowned._

_Gandalf _said_ this wouldn't happen anymore._

_As he fell, the ruthless sounds of growls ceased._

_There was silence all around him._

_Legolas slowly and cautiously pulled himself up from the ground and looked behind him to see where the beast had gone to._

_He was mildly surprised to see that in place of a beast, was a man._

_A tall, dark, unkempt man. Not in such a way as a ranger, but more as a dirty mortal man. The man had dark hair and dark set eyes that begged for sleep; he seemed to be watching Legolas with a calm amusement as the latter pushed himself up from the ground._

_"What are you?" asked the man of Legolas._

_Legolas merely shrugged._

_"I'm an elf. What are you?"_

_"A werewolf." the dark stranger said simply, as if talking over Sunday tea._

_There was a deep silence between the two, before both of the men smiled softly. . . . ._   
  


While Legolas dreamed of werewolves, a shaggy black dog shivered from the cold hundreds of miles away, in a dark muggle London alley. This simple, mangy dog, however, dreamt of a beautiful raven haired and grey-eyed beauty. . .   
  


_In his dream, the dog was eating out of dumpsters in Hogsmeade._

_A sudden and soft rustling sent his guard and senses flying, though._

_He flew away from the dumpster and jounced to the ground on all fours, bowing his head and growling ferociously._

_Before him stood a beautiful woman; standing a rough six feet tall with ebony hair cascading past her waist and azure ocean eyes striking through the dog's heart. She wore silk green robes with a silver velvet cape and on her back were two most peculiar items; a quiver of arrows, with a bow. The dog snarled at her warningly._

_The woman merely tilted her head._

_The dog tried to scare her away by snapping his jaws, barking, and foaming, but the woman simply would not budge._

_Not knowing what else to do, The dog sat down and let his ears wag and his tail sweep the dirty alley floor slowly._

_The woman smiled softly and approached the dog slowly._

_Gently, she kneeled down before him and pulled back the hood of her cape. The woman then seemed to examine the dog with her grave eyes before raising a slender hand and extending it to the dog's head._

_The dog made no attempt to snap at her or growl at her; instead, he allowed her to pat him on the head softly._

_And then; the transformation took place. The dog was no longer a dirty stray, but now a disheveled and weary looking Sirius Black._

_The woman smiled at him, while he remained befuddled and shocked._

_"What did you do to me?" came a hoarse voice Sirius scarcely recognized as his own._

_The woman did not answer, but instead, smiled at him as she took his hand and stood up with him._

_"Padfoot, I presume?"_

_Sirius said nothing._

_The woman leaned into his ear and whispered;_

_"I do ask that the next time we meet, you do not bark so loudly. I hate to complain, but it rather hurts my ears," the woman pulled back her hair to reveal to reveal a delicately curved ear._

_Sirius gasped, but the woman merely smiled as she turned away._

_"Namarie, Sirius Black." The woman made a small curtsey, and then simply vanished into thin air._

_Sirius looked down at himself and saw that he was once again a dog._

_He gave a confused whimper before trotting back over to the dumpster and resuming his dinner._   
  


The teacher's faculty meeting the next morning took place in the Staff Room, which was a fatal mistake. The end of July was creeping along ever so slowly, and the temperature was creeping up along with it. The room was stuffy, and nearly all the teachers were restless with anxiety to get out or to sleep. It was after all, six thirty. 

"First order of business," began the Headmaster, 

Dumbledore didn't even have to clear his throat to begin the meeting, for the second he opened his mouth, the Professors and Staff hushed and looked at him intently. 

"If they haven't all ready introduced themselves to you, I would like to present our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, Cassandra Averill and Alexander Harrison, they've just recently switched from their Ministry jobs." 

Several eyes landed on Arwen and Legolas, some meticulously examining them, some glaring feverently, some looking curiously indifferent, some smiling, and others, simply gawking at the length of Legolas's hair. 

Arwen caught on to this as she pulled a fly away hair from Legolas's head and tucked it in to his head. 

"We're going to have to fix this. . . ." she murmured. 

"Over my dead body." he muttered back. 

"I believe we'll make this as short as possible, as I am sure, we all have better things that need to be done," 

A drowsy grumble of agreement followed these words. 

"First, many of you have heard that there has been several disturbances concerning the borders of the Forbidden Forest. I do not wish to convey too much information at the present, but it is extremely likely that it is Voldemort at work, along with other unnamed accomplices." 

Dumbledore introduced this topic so idly Arwen couldn't help but smirk as the Professors turned pale. 

"There is very little that I can disclose to you without causing more upheaval, so all I will say is be on your guard for the bizarre, the curious, and the unknown. Queer as my words may sound, I advise you to take them to heart, for you could very well save the lives of many by doing so. As the year progresses, I will keep you informed. Next item, is your supplies. . ." 

Legolas and Arwen leaned into each other. 

"Subtlety-" began Arwen. 

"-Is an old man's favorite trick, _I know_. Cassandra, why isn't he telling the teachers about this?" 

Arwen seemed to think about this. 

"Surely he knows enough to spread the word of confirmation. . . " 

"Does he?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Arwen drew back, surprised he would doubt the knowledge of a wizard like Dumbledore. 

"What are you saying?" she asked numbly, eyes wide. 

Legolas sighed. 

"Nothing. . . what I meant to ask, is would they panic?" suggested Legolas, motioning to the preoccupied teachers, who were writing down everything they needed for the up and coming semester. 

"No, they're more controlled than that." said Arwen shaking her head, and trying to look inconspicuous to a dramatically leering Trelawney. 

"Well, most of them, anyway." 

"Professor Averill." 

Arwen looked up calmly at Dumbledore who was looking at she and Legolas idly. 

"Do you have your requirements?" 

"Yes, Headmaster." Arwen held up the slip of paper that Legolas had scribbled a list of books and ingredients down on. 

Dumbledore nodded. 

"Now, for security reasons, I'd like you to give these to Minerva and Severus, and they will fetch the items you need this afternoon. Good afternoon to you all, and Cassandra?" 

"Yes?" 

"Stay a while, please. You too Alexander. Severus, Minerva, this includes you as well." 

As the teachers bustled out of the Staff Room, McGonnagall and Snape stayed behind, both of them looking curiously at the two new Professors and Dumbledore, as he tidied up the table with his wand. 

"I have a bit of unsettling news." He said, sitting down again. 

"As I have stated, Voldemort is most likely at work. However, as you have probably assumed, the creatures that we saw outside the Forest yesterday are not the creatures of this world;" 

There was a shocked silence on behalf of McGonnagall and Snape, while Legolas and Arwen merely exchanged panicked looks with one another. 

"Furthermore, these unfamiliar creatures that you have taken notice of yesterday are not the only dark disturbances that you will see. It is quite likely that more bizarre, more dangerous, and more unfamiliar creatures will find their way to Hogwarts, and the rest of the wizarding world." 

Just as they remembered hadn't told Dumbledore about Saruman, the two elves suddenly had slued thoughts of possible scenarios running through their much too complex minds. . . 

_Saruman, walking in broad daylight, torturing muggles_; _Saruman, searching for Wormtongue_;_ Saruman, finding a palantir_- 

"Professors." Dumbledore's grave voice brought the elves out of their horrific visions. 

They looked at Dumbledore, trying not to look too weak in their moment of cold realization. 

Apparently, he took no notice of their unusual paleness, and continued. 

"In the up and coming months you are going to see beasts. . ." He paused. "And people you've never seen before," Dumbledore was now turned fully to Snape and McGonnagall, excluding Arwen and Legolas for obvious reasons. 

"You are going to feel some very familiar emotions, but you will not be able to put a face to them. Do not be surprised if you come into contact with something that you have not a clue about." 

Snape and McGonnagall had incredulous facial expressions; Snape looked so sour he could have easily passed as a lemon; and McGonnagall looked partially intrigued, partially offended, and partially unbelieving. 

Dumbledore continued. 

"There are people who will understand these creatures and people, however, and we are lucky enough to have a couple of them as our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors. A lucky find, if you will." 

Snape and McGonnagall turned to Legolas and Arwen, and promptly began to stare. McGonnagall gaped at the both of them with her eyes wide and mouth open, still not understanding much of what was being explained to her, while Snape preferred the usual glower. 

Legolas felt the need to speak. 

"These creatures. . . they are so dangerous," he began softly. The serious nature of his voice even made Snape re-adjust so he could pay more attention. 

"Cassandra herself does not even yet know the dangers of what we now face, Professors." said Legolas a bit louder, nudging his cousin gently in the ribs. 

Arwen gave him a scathing look that quickly made Legolas jump subjects. 

"Look, I can't really explain much without repeating how dangerous the enemies you will face are, but. . . . um. . ." 

He scratched his head, trying to think of a good metaphor for the situation as Arwen looked on, slightly amused. 

Snape started strumming his fingers in light of the nonsensical situation he realized he was in, while McGonnagall simply folded   
her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows as she leaned back into her chair. 

"Um. . . oh . ah ha! I've got it!" 

"Imagine, Professors, a pile of broken glass. Each shard of glass has its own unique shape, but there's no way you can see what it was that has broken, but, eventually, if you piece all the shards together, you'll find out what it was." 

There was a silence, and then McGonnagall tightened her stern eyes. 

"Working backward?" 

Snape's lip curled. 

"If one might ask, _Professor_, why one should work backward when one all ready knows people that are perfectly fit to tell one what is going on?" 

Arwen gave an exasperated sigh, as if she weary of teaching a complex lesson to a child. 

"Because, _Professor,_" she mimicked him. "If we were to tell _one_, _one's_ head would swell to an uncomfortably large size and explode, leaving a huge mess for the rest of us to clean up." 

Legolas saw a smile flash across McGonnagall's lips for a fraction of a second, before she retained her stern atmosphere. 

"Going on," Dumbledore said, not looking a bit worried and still facing Snape and McGonnagall, "since I am still receiving information on the current situation that we now face and am not the most reliable source of wisdom, any questions that you need answering, any trusts you need confirmed, and any doubts you need quelled, belong to them," Dumbledore stretched a hand out to motion to Arwen and Legolas. 

"Of course, if they do not see it fit to answer your questions, confirm your trusts, or quell your doubts, then you shall simply have to guess!" joked Dumbledore. 

Again, Snape and McGonnagall turned their faces to the two teachers; McGonnagall looked doubtful, but Snape looked simply livid. 

"Headmaster," Snape began, dark in his impatience, "with all due respect, if Professor Averill and Professor Harrison are here to explain the unexplained, then why are they not doing their jobs?" 

"I'm afraid Cassandra and Alexander are right where they stand, Severus. While there is still little evidence to support their information, they can give you none." Dumbledore's eyes had no light-hearted humor in them, and his voice was grave. 

And thus so, there was no further argument; Dumbledore's word was law, and Snape didn't have the guts to contradict him. 

A silence followed as Dumbledore scribbled down a few things on a piece of parchment, and Snape took the advantage of situation and glared at Legolas and Arwen spitefully. 

Legolas smiled pleasantly in return. 

"Minerva and Cassandra, I am sending you to Knockturn Alley to pick up these supplies," he handed McGonnagall the list of teacher's supplies, his eyes flashed warningly at Minerva as she took the paper. 

"Be careful." he murmured to her, still aware that Arwen and Legolas still had their keen elven hearing. 

"Severus and Alexander, I would like you to pay a visit to Cornelius Fudge and a few departments at the Ministry," 

Arwen looked across at McGonnagall, who remained passive, while Legolas smiled politely at Snape, who looked as if he'd rather eat his own leg than spend a day with the man who took the job of his dreams. 

Dumbledore blissfully ignored any animosity that may have been between anyone as he looked briefly at the parchment before him before taking off his hat and stuffing the parchment into it, and putting it back on his head. 

"I advise you to return back to the School as soon as possible," he said, walking over to a small window and looking out of it passively. 

"Hmm. Looks as if it's going to rain."   
  
  
  
  
  
  


Galadriel sighed as the water in her calm pool grew colorful with disturbing images of foresight. 

Mandos and his council were of little help these days. He and his wise council were so completely overwhelmed in their bickering over whom to send back to Arda, and who to stay, that the idea of the two wizards and two elves needing allies, and soon, was becoming a distant topic. 

She would simply have to take matters into her own hands. 

"Stop." she said firmly, weary with unfamiliar anxiety. 

Nenya became cool on her finger, and the pool clouded over with mist, becoming calm once again. 

"There are some enemies that out number us still, even when our defenses hold, my lady." 

Galadriel looked over at Elrond Halfelven, sitting on her gray hedged bench, where a young Silvan Prince had been sitting not three hours hence. 

She sat down next to him and thought. 

"Their list of allies grows thin by the minute, Elrond. I fear soon, even Mando will abandon them. . ." 

"Mandos is trying as hard as he can to resolve his circle's quarreling, Lady Galadriel." 

Galadriel paused, slowly getting angry. 

"_Oh yes_," she spat, letting her impatience best her wisdom. "I am sure that once his council agrees on who to send to help Legolas find a library book, the world will have gone back into the hands of Sauron." 

Elrond sighed, knowing Galadriel's cynicism was a bad sign of immense frustration. 

"It is difficult, being here, and watching every move they make without being able to reach them, isn't it?" he said softly. "But soon, they will know how to get to us. They just need a bit of time to dangle, Lady." 

"-And until then?" Galadriel said, casting her eyes back to her pool. "Do we let Sauron obtain every evil essence from Middle-Earth and direct it to the New Age while Legolas and Arwen desperately try to answer questions of others, while they cannot reason their own insecurities? As they fight off new and old foes, do we let them become encircled in darkness, before it is too much for even Radagast and Gandalf to aid?" 

Elrond said nothing, but merely looked on into the dense forest, surrounded in deep thoughts. Galadriel stood up and went beside her pool. 

"You and I both know that Mandos is making this much too difficult. He and his council are thinking too critically on morals, threats and risks." 

Elrond looked back at her, raising an eyebrow in dry humor. 

"Are you insinuating that such things should not be taken into consideration when sending a creature from our time into a foreign world?" 

"No, Elrond. It is you who are insinuating." Galadriel said darkly. "I am merely saying the obvious, Elrond. We've come to realize that the Ring has returned, correct? Mandos has all ready sent back Legolas, a warrior of the Fellowship of the Ring, and an elf who has all ready dealt with the Ring. Gandalf, a wizard who has faced evil numerous times and knows all of it's deceitful faces, and Arwen. Simple, yet wise Arwen who was only vaguely involved with the Ring. What I find absurd, is Mandos and his council have failed to see the pattern in their weapons of choice." 

Elrond stood up, looking finely at Galadriel, as if trying to decipher her true meaning. 

"Lady Galadriel, sending warriors of the Third Age-" 

"No, my dear son, warriors of the Ring. Not just the Third Age, but of the Ring." 

Elrond paused and looked back up at the indigo sky that was beginning to fade into night. 

"I see." he said softly. 

Galadriel nodded, and waited for him to say anything else derived from his great wisdom. 

When no such answer came, she spoke again. 

"It will be difficult, I haven't the power of Mandos, but together, Peredhel, we can bring forth allies to Arwen and Legolas as the days darken." 

Elrond was still silent. 

As the sun faded into the trees though, he looked back at her, a subtle line of weariness across his brow. 

"You are aware that once we start sending our allies, Voldemort's army can very well find their way here?" 

Galadriel gave a sinister smirk, giving Elrond chills down his spine. 

"I do not believe the ever young Voldemort and his. . . _humble_ army can do you and I much harm, don't you agree, Elrond?" 

Elrond eyes twinkled, and he said nothing. 

"The allies we send will have to be trustworthy, Galadriel. Every last fiber of their being must be truthful, brave and honorable to the death. Who did you plan on recruiting?" 

Galadriel smiled, only this time, much more kindly. 

"My dear friend, I thought you'd never ask."   
  
  
  
  
  


Remus Lupin, in his first years at Hogwarts, was referred to as a ghost. 

Thus so, he was aptly dubbed, for no one noticed him, not even James, until his second year. 

His invisibility was one of the few things he prided himself on, along with his keen observational skills and his mask of indifference. 

But then again, Lupin didn't like the fact that he was a great eavesdropper, and to put it frankly, a master at spying. 

He wasn't a professional spy for the Ministry, or even a spy out of hobby, but rather, a vice of the greater interest of others at stake. 

At this particular time and place, (that is to say, nearing ten in the morning and set at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade) Remus Lupin's exceptional abilities were paying off, but in a not-so gratifying way. 

Seated three tables away from Remus, who sat huddled over in a dark inconspicuous corner, was a tall hooded figure draped in a not so tactful white, and a shorter, lankier figure, clothed in a faded black cloak. Their faces were obscured from Remus, as he sat slumped over in his seat, head buried in his arms, as though he were trying to sleep, but unfortunately, he had only managed to doze in and out of a state of consciousness, which allowed for almost perfect hearing from where he sat. . . 

A tight, curling voice was heard, and Remus automatically did not like the way it made him feel. 

"Mandos is a fool. For an angelic and ever dominant spirit, that is. The elves are desperate for allies, master." 

A deep rumble was heard, and Remus vaguely recognized it as a laugh. 

"Even Illuvatar's pet cannot decide who to send and who to keep. _Pathetic_." growled the deep voice. 

"Master, the ghost you nearly cursed a week ago has given the elves warning on your searching for the One. Greenleaf and Evenstar know you are on the castle grounds, but haven't a clue as to why you are looking for Greenleaf." 

"Let's keep it that way." the voice said dangerously. 

"Y-yes, master, always. . ." the snaky voice cowered. 

"Now," the dark voice had a curl of malice to it as he spoke again, 

"What news of Voldemort?" 

Remus tightened, and just barely managed to stifle a gasp as he tried to slow his breathing. 

There was a slight creak as one of the men leaned across the table, presumably the snaked voiced man. 

"He is angry, master. Very, very, angry." 

There was an eerie silence as neither of the men spoke. 

Remus couldn't blame them, infuriating Voldemort definitely called for a reflective silence; Remus' thoughts were suddenly shattered when booming laughter hit his ears for the second time that night. 

"Oh _really_?!" the dark voice snickered viciously. 

"Yes, master. Voldemort's sending deatheaters by the dozen after The Dark Lord, thinking he knows his next move, thinking he knows the location of the Dark Lord, thinking he knows all of the Dark Lord's allies. . . " 

The other man scoffed at the snaky man. 

"What a nuisance. The Dark Lord should have never made that alliance with him," the man sighed. "But you and I know changing the past isn't all that easy, isn't that right?" 

"Yes, master." 

"So Voldemort thinks he can tangle with the Dark Lord and those faithful to him?" he began, obviously not very impressed with Voldemort's army. 

_These men have to have been living in a cave for the last thirty years. . ., _Remus thought dryly. 

"Wait, my master, there is more; the creature Gollum hides in the mists of Mirkwood, even as I speak. He is searching for The One now more desperately more than ever, and will stop at nothing to get it back." 

The man growled at this. 

"As if our Lord hasn't enough to deal with, pesky Voldemort, those silly elves and their 'wizards and witches' and now, Smeagol, that filthy maggot." he sighed. "They will be easy enough to dispose of, though. I should not worry myself with such trifling matters." he added, trying to sound relaxed, though Remus could tell there was a good amount of anxiety in his deep voice. 

"The riders are becoming restless, my master. They hunger for the The One and are begging to be released from Mirkwood. And what with Voldemort's growing aggravation and desperation with finding The One, would it be such a terrible idea?" 

"Not yet. It's too early. But soon, my servant. Very soon." 

Remus was fingering the wand in his pocket, trying to decide whether blowing these fools away or listening with dumbfounded amusement with whatever else these oddballs had to say. 

"Master," continued the voice, "I must admit, I was very apprehensive to meet you in such a. . ." the slithering voice paused in distaste, "precarious location. . ." 

"You are in no position to be comforted, Wormtongue." 

There was another silence. 

"Yes, master, but you have misunderstood me. Voldemort has spies everywhere, and. . ." the voice cowered into a whisper, "who knows what allies that the elves may have made in this new time. . ." 

A booming laugh erupted from the white cloaked man, and the cynicism in which nearly made Remus jump up and hex his way out of the Hog's Head. 

"You speak of spies and allies, my young learner. In this world, allies are forsaken, as you and I, and the Overlord have so unfortunately learned. If we have such undependable allies, what makes you think that our young elven friends will be luckier with their fortunes?" 

Just as the question was posed, the old rusty door to the Hog's Head was slammed open with great force, followed by a cold gust of air. Remus decided this would be a good time to stop his feigned hangover and quietly raise his head. 

He almost laughed at the impeccable timing the three deatheaters, who stood poised stiffly and quite angrily at the entrance, had managed to make, right at the end of the white wizard's grueling boast about the incompetence of the Deatheaters. 

As the small population of the Hog's Head began to screech and flee the small pub in panic, Remus couldn't help but gape, amazed, at the white wizard and his stocky companion. 

They hadn't moved, nor shown any fear, surprise, even haughtiness at the arrival of Voldemort's clan. 

The two merely looked at the three, blankly, as if the Deatheaters were lost travelers, mistaking the Hog's Head for the Three Broomsticks. 

It was at this realization that Remus realized, these two wizards were either completely clueless, completely moronic, or completely fearless. . . but what intrigued Remus the most, was the little voice that was begging to find out which of the three these wizards were. 

However curious the inner child that Sirius Black had implanted in him was, Remus maintained himself and his calm and cool nature swept back to him, and Remus stayed in his dark corner, wand in hand, but inconspicuous. 

The Deatheaters stepped in, their hollow boots echoing dully on the ill kept wooden floor. The abused door snapped shut as the following two wizards stepped after it, and Remus realized getting out would be an adventure indeed. 

In several fluid motions, wands were drawn and the black cloaks that veiled the Deatheater's ominous identities were thrown back. 

At the head, Lucius Malfoy, followed closely by two unknown wizards Remus could not put a name to. 

The two seated wizards, however, remained passive. 

Remus cringed inwardly as the Deatheaters swiftly advanced upon the two seated wizards, their deadly faces etched in ice. 

As the three Deatheaters placed themselves stonily beside the white wizard's table, the white wizard still showed no apprehension. 

Lucius whipped his wand to the nose of the white wizard and gave a vicious snarl. 

"Name." he demanded coldly. 

The white wizard merely looked distastefully at the wand pointed at him, before he swatted it away with annoyance. 

"Do you often approach total strangers and shove little sticks in their faces?" 

Lucius' lip curled angrily at this remark, but he did not move to hex the wizard. 

"What is your name, old man?" Lucius asked again, a dangerous edge to his silky voice. 

The white wizard raised an eyebrow. 

"Which name are you looking for, little boy? I have many." 

Understandably, Lucius did not like that title at all. He threw his wand back up to the white wizard's nose and growled maliciously. 

"Let's try your true name, old man." 

"Your ignorant little head would burst if I did such a thing, and I do not wish to have such filth on my robes." 

Lucius was unaffected by the mild insult, and merely let his lips twitch in slight amusement, though his wand remained unwavering. 

"Your name," he jabbed his wand into the white wizard's nose, "now." 

The white wizard stood up, and Remus suddenly realized what a tall giant he was. Lucius, who was a good six feet, had to look up a few inches at the white wizard, who had just pulled out a long walking stick. Remus' face flushed as he had to hide a groan, he felt extremely embarrassed for this poor old man. 

Lucius was not intimidated easily, and held his wand in place. 

"You know, being sly and tactful just isn't the same anymore, is it Wormtongue?" 

The lanky wizard did not reply, the but white wizard continued. 

"Times were, wise wizards did not come slamming into rooms demanding such trivial things such as names. Hmm. Voldemort really is losing his edge, isn't he?" the white wizard replied, curtly. 

The room's temperature suddenly dropped, and one of the Deatheaters shivered at the mention of his master's powerful name. 

"You dare speak his name, you bumbling old fool?" Lucius said softly. 

"Names are treacherous, young man." 

Lucius was mere inches away from the white wizard's face. 

"You do not know his power. He will suck the life out of you like a venomous serpent. I suggest you give me your name, and I might spare you his wrath by putting you to a civil end." 

Remus cringed as the old man boomed with laughter. 

"Wrath?" The old man pushed Malfoy away none too gently and held up his staff. "You've obviously never seen real wrath, have you boy?!" 

Malfoy had obviously had enough, he and the following two deatheaters raised their wands and opened their mouths, ready to hex; but with a slight prod of air with his staff, the white wizard snapped all three wands in two. 

Lucius gaped down at his wand as it shriveled away into dust at his very feet. 

At this point, Lupin's eyes grew wide with profound realization, and a swarm of thoughts raced through his mind. . .   
  


_This is obviously not a wizard who is afraid of Voldemort. Okay, so there are only so many of those kind of people these days, this could mean several things;_

_A) Rogue deatheater (note: not likely, seeing how he is not dead and/or maimed)_

_B) Crazy senile old man (probable)_

_C)Recruit spy from Albus (???)_

_D)Crazy senile old man who is brave and/or daft enough to pull a hokey magic trick like liquefying prominent deatheater's wands. (well, there's only one wizard who fits that description, and he doesn't _look_ like Albus)_

_He can't be working for Dumbledore, way too unstable; but, then again, so were a lot of people. All right, so if he's crazy enough to pull off a stunt like that, the question really is, do I really want to stick around for something unpleasant to happen, or high tail it to Hogwarts?_   
  
  


"You want names, boy?" the wizard's harsh voice pulled Remus out of his light speed thinking, as the white wizard raised up his staff. 

Suddenly, the entire tavern was ablaze with a black fire and the three deatheater's were literally blown off their feet. Remus shot up from his seat and ducked down on to the floor, where he was at least a bit safer to observe. An unseen force picked up and tore at everything in the pub. Tables snapped in two, mugs made of steel shattered into a million pieces, and the black fire sped along the wooden walls. 

Remus felt like someone was ripping him limb to limb, something was clawing feverishly at his mind, pulling his organs and painfully rearranging them- 

"Wizard of Many Colors!" the man boomed as he waved his staff again. 

The white wizard's accomplice was behind the older wizard in a flash, cowering underneath his height and build, poking his greasy head out now and then to glare at the Deatheaters. 

Remus screamed as his wand flew out of his pocket and began rattling and shaking from the inside out on the ground. 

The three deatheaters were hauled up from the ground by an invisible force and slammed brutally against the wall of the tavern. 

"The Wise Leader of the High Council!" 

Remus ducked as miscellaneous objects began thundering across the room to create a giant hurricane around the three baffled deatheaters. 

"I am Saruman the White, and loyal servant of the great Dark Lord, Sauron!" 

Just as quickly as it had all begun, the chaos ended. The remains of the mugs clattered to the ground arranged in a thousand pieces, the heavy objects that had only moments ago been used as a whirlwind died in midair and fell back to the wooden floor as the black fire was magically extinguished, and the unspeakable torture that had been raving inside Remus was subdued. 

Remus looked up coyly from behind a charred half table at the white wizard. 

He was no longer looking haughty and self-assured, but rather, displeased as he glared down at the three deatheaters, who were panicking to get up. 

The greasy wizard that had hidden behind the white wizard during the entire episode stepped out confidentially and mimicked his elder by glaring fiercely at the astounded deatheaters. 

Lucius Malfoy, apart from looking completely appalled, scandalized, and most of all pissed off looked at Saruman with a snarl. 

"Saruman of Many Colors," he spat out, as if the words were mud on his tongue, "you shall be expecting word from my master, and next time, don't expect a trick that that to save your neck." 

With a prude sniff, Lucius flattened the crease in his scuffed up robes, turned his heel and walked straight for the door, not taking a second glance at the two deatheaters who were still motionless on the ground. 

The white wizard and his accomplice still had their dark eyes on the door long after Lucius had exited, and neither spoke for a long time. 

"Master. . .?" inquired the shorter greasy wizard softly. 

"Yes, Wormtongue?" 

"They don't have a chance do they?" 

"Who, Wormtongue? 

"Any of them." 

As a slow, cruel malicious smile crept upon the white wizard's face, lighting in delight, Remus realized that this man was definitely not working for Albus. . . or Voldemort.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Something Wicked This Way Comes

_Along the cobblestone road to Hogwarts walked a tall, and lean man with a firm build, and by his side, a small petite girl skipped along side of him, grasping his hand while she sang a sweet note._

_It was raining outside, but that didn't seem all that important to the two that slowly made their way up to the Hogwarts main doors, even though the man was drenched from giving his hat to his little girl._

_Minerva looked up at her father with squinted eyes from underneath the hat, which looked about two sizes too big for her crown._

_"Daddy?"_

_"Yes, Minnie?"_

_"Why are we going to the school in the in the rain?"_

_A flicker of a smile turned the lips of her father._

_"I have to speak with the Headmaster, my dear. Then we will go home, and you can tell mother all about your first trip to Hogwarts."_

_Minerva turned back to the main doors with a smile on her face._

_Though young, she had never really paid that much attention to the infamous school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She couldn't see how wonderful her parents deemed it, for on the outside it looked just like any other castle; but as the main doors opened wide for she and her father, Minerva got her first taste of magic._

_In her wide eyed wonderment of the foyer, Minerva did not stop to notice the elderly gentlemen approaching._

_"Welcome, Mr. McGonnagall."_

_Her father nodded appreciatively as the other man continued._

_"The Headmaster is waiting for you in the library, shall I announce you?"_

_"No, not at all thank-you. . . but," he glanced down at his enchanted daughter._

_"If you wouldn't mind, could you keep an eye out for this one? She has a tendency to wander off." he ended in a drawl, sounding as if he and her mother had spent countless hours fretting when she danced off._

_The man nodded kindly as Minerva's father headed up the stairs briskly._

_The elderly gentlemen turned back to Minerva with a small smile on his face._

_"What is your name?"_

_"Minerva."_

_"Hello, Minerva, my name is Clancy, I keep the grounds here at Hogwarts. Would you like something to eat?" he held out his hand for her, and Minerva was in the process of taking it when a small house elf came skidding into view from a thrown open door._

_"Mister Clancy Sirs, Taffy slipped on a puddle of soap water, she's hurted, sir!"_

_Without a second glance at Minerva, the man bolted after the house-elf and it was only when he reached the door he turned sharply to Minerva._

_"Minerva, dear, you stay put!" he shouted as he vanished behind the doorway._

_Minerva stared after him with wide eyes, suddenly feeling very independent. She had always wanted to do some exploring around this place._

_As she turned back around to head for the stairs, Minerva spotted something quite peculiar dancing by the Great Doors. She squinted her small eyes to see that it was a small, monarch butterfly, fluttering madly in an attempt to get out._

_Minerva frowned._

_"Don't worry, don't worry!" she said aloud for the butterfly to hear as she scampered to the door. "I'll get you out, I'll get you out!"_

_Minerva's small hands fumbled with the giant handle in panic as she watched the poor butterfly beat with all it's might at the door as well._

_Finally, she managed to open the door, though how she did it was beyond her, and the beautiful monarch fluttered down to Minerva's nose. As the small creature slowly beat its wings on her face, tickling her, Minerva giggled._

_"You're welcome!" she said happily._

_The butterfly then vacated Minerva's nose and began to flutter in circles around the small girl. Minerva watched with confused fascination as the graceful butterfly wove around the girl and then slipped out of the great doors._

_"Wait!" yelled Minerva, chasing after the butterfly into the rain._

_Ignoring her father's hat falling to the ground and the beating rain on her small figure, Minerva kept going after her prey, panting heavily. Chasing butterflies was a normal thing for a child her age, but considering the circumstances, Miverva did not ever fully understand why she felt so compelled to follow the butterfly into the rain. It may have been her concern for the little creature, (it was raining awfully hard, and the rain could weigh the tiny insect down) or it may have been Minerva's need to quench her thirst for adventure, but whatever the reason, she wasn't about to let up on the chase._

_She ran for what felt like hours. To make matters worse, the rain had gone from a mild slew to a mad downpour in minutes. The only good part of the entire crazy race, was that Minerva had finally managed to catch up to the butterfly._

_It had perched itself on a great mossy tree, and begun to beat it wings to a slower rhythm. Minerva panted through her smile as she stroked the butterfly's tired wings with her finger. It could finally rest now. But her soft content only lasted a few seconds, as the butterfly disappeared through a hole in the tree, and Minerva was left alone to deal with the downpour._

_As she looked around herself, Minerva realized with a seizing horror she had only felt in night terrors that she was lost. Lost in the Forbidden Forest, nonetheless. She must have been so obsessed with catching that silly butterfly that she didn't even stop to think or consider where it was leading her._

_The harsh rain that had blocked Minerva's vision suddenly let up to a sprinkle, and Minerva felt the first pangs of panic and fear shoot through her small self._

_She began to run back to where she had come. . . or at least, she thought it was back. It could been east, west or north for all she knew. Every tree in the foreboding forest looked the same as the one beside it; tall, dark, suspicious and threatening. As she ran even faster, the trees seemed to be closing in on her, blocking any light or chance of escape, and Minerva could take no more fear in her heart._

_She began to cry._

_Minerva couldn't breathe; sobbing and running stole every breath that her lungs offered her, and her tiny body fell down with a splatter into the mud._

_Had small Minerva been but a decade older, she would have appreciated her current situation with a sour, ironic laugh; but seeing as how she was only five, no wit and no humor could have sufficed for a description of what laid before her when she raised her small head._

_She had never seen anything quite like it._

_A dark tower loomed above the trees, soaring into the grey sky for what seemed like leagues and leagues upward. It was a grand sight to see, but none to welcoming. Upon seeing the huge tower, Minerva felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck, her heart stop, her spine tingle, and her teeth chatter even harder and louder than before. In a matter of seconds, Minerva's predatory responses flew into action, and the small child reeled back at the sight of the menacing tower._

_As she scampered backward on her small hands and feet, Minerva's escape was suddenly and unexpectantly blocked by something hard. Breathing hard from the cold, sobbing from her fear, and whimpering with hopelessness, Minerva decided to be brave, and look up._

_Behind her, and looking down on her with a sweet half smile on his face, was the most peculiar man Minerva had ever seen. He had a beautiful face; soft in features, yet dramatic enough to last through the tests of time, his eyes were a dark chocolate color that seemed to absorb and reflect warmth. His hair was long. Longer than her mothers, in fact, as it went down past his waist. He was wearing a green cloak and tunic, lined with silver threads and encrusted with silver leaves._

_Upon seeing him, every last fiber of fear that Minerva had, seemed to fade into a lesser threat. The rain even seemed to suddenly stop. She had met someone strange looking, but nice looking as well, in a dark time. He could help her out. . . couldn't he?_

_The man looked at Minerva for a few seconds longer, before his eyes turned cold and looked back at the tower. Minerva admired him, for there wasn't a trace of fear to be seen on his flawless face._

_"Such cold nights are brought into cold lights. Menaces may stir as times grow dark, but Mirkwood's archers and Kings will claim your downfall."_

_His voice was low. So low that Minerva had to strain to hear his words through the backdrop of rain and thunder; but his words were profound. It was likely he had not meant for her to overhear his own personal thoughts, but didn't mind even if she did._

_He looked back down on Minerva and gave her a funny look._

_"What's your name?" he asked softly._

_Vainly, Minerva struggled to use the words her father and mother had told her to use when confronted with strangers, but now. . . they did not seem to apply._

_"Minerva McGonnagall."_

_"Minerva McGonnagall. . . .would you like to go home now?"_

_Minerva nodded eagerly._

_The man leaned over and hauled Minerva to her feet gently._

_"My lady, your valiant steed awaits."_

_Minerva giggled as she was picked up by the man and laid sideways across his back and shoulders. He had pretended to gallop like a magnificent horse for a little while, as he miraculously wove his way through the trees, as if he knew exactly where he was going. As they trekked on, the man took Minerva down from his shoulders and into his arms and began to lull her to sleep with a beautiful song sung in a tongue that she did not understand the words, but understood the meaning by it's universal tune. Minerva become quite drowsy, and it was only before she drifted off into a warm slumber that she asked a question._

_"Who are you?" asked her quiet sleepy voice._

_The man stopped his singing as softly as he could._

_"Your valiant steed, my lady."_   


"Knockturn Alley!" grunted Ern, the Knight Bus conductor as the bus lurched to a violent stop. Everyone else on the bus went sailing forward into their seats all except Arwen, who remained sitting up straight in her seat beside a sleeping Professor McGonnagall. 

"Professor. . . Professor . . . Minerva. . ?" 

Arwen gently shook Professor McGonnagall awake. How anyone could fall asleep on such a rambunctious contraption like the Knight Bus was beyond her, but somehow, it wasn't an issue for the elderly woman. 

"Minerva . . " she shook her once again, and the Professor awoke with a start. 

"Professor, are you all right?" Arwen asked her eyes trying to examine the Professor as she sounded genuinely concerned. 

Professor McGonnagall seemed distraught, but mumbled something along the lines 'i'm fine' as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up straight. 

Arwen looked down at her, still a bit concerned. 

"Are you sure, Professor?" 

"Quite. Do you have the list, Professor Averill?" 

"Please, the _Professor_ part is hard enough to believe, my name is Cassandra, and yes," Arwen pulled out the long piece of parchment. 

"I have Snape's ingredients, Sprout and Hagrid's magical fertilizer, and Merlin knows what else all right here." 

Minerva smiled faintly, and the two women got up from their seats and made their way off the bus into Knockturn Alley. 

From the moment Arwen's foot touched the rain drenched cement, an empty feeling dropped into the pit of her stomach. Unlike the feeling of returning peril she had gotten from the Forbidden Forest, different from the familiar pangs of homesickness she had received while walking on Hogwart's grounds, this feeling was one of suspicion and an unsettling anxiety. 

"I don't like this place." She murmured, looking around at the scattered wizards and witches, draped in black hooded robes and queer folk eyeing her and leering at her. 

McGonnagall seemed stiffer and sterner than usual. 

"You're among many, Prof-. . . Cassandra. Knockturn Alley isn't your average welcoming shopping plaza. We should split up, and get these errands done faster. The longer we're here, the more noticeable we'll be. Why don't you get Snape's teaching materials at Grimm and Drear's Bookstore, I'll try and get everything else." 

"Are you sure that's fair?" Arwen asked. 

McGonnagall gave her a look. 

"Believe me, I'm getting the upper hand in this one. Meet me back here in two hours." 

And with that, McGonnagall turned down a cobble alley, and was swallowed in fog. 

Arwen sighed. 

So Knockturn Alley thought it could scare her away, did it? 

Her eyes flickered across the pave way to the Grimm and Drear's Bookstore as a mischievous smile softly played on her lips. 

Obviously, Knockturn Alley had never tried to scare away elves before.   
  
  
  


"You didn't tell me you were sending _them_!" Elrond gasped, as he looked up from Galadriel's pool. 

Galadriel offered him nothing but a shrug. 

"Oh, my lady, tell me you didn't send them!" he groaned, his grip on the pool's edge becoming tighter with his every breath. 

"Fie on you, Elrond, and foreshame! How could you say such untrusting words?" 

"No, lady, not untrusting, sensible! Why them? Why, why, why?" he went on, sounding like a child about to throw a tantrum. 

"They are wise, excellent hunters, brave soldiers, caring beings-" 

"Mischievous, immature-" 

Galadriel held up a hand to silence him. 

"It is done now, and whatever disagreement you have with my choice is redundant." 

"You could have told me, lady." Elrond said exasperated, and falling on the bench for a rest. 

"And have this very same quibble with you as two lives were in the balance? I think not." Galadriel pointed out. 

"You realize of course, sending those two back may very well jeopardize Arwen and Legolas even more?" 

"It is not a laughing matter, Elrond," Galadriel said in a dangerous voice. "I have taken into account their flaws and strengths, and just as fair, their brave demeanor and selfless deeds. These acts in the past are proof enough that they are fit to fight and fight valiantly. Whatever argument you have with them when they return is none of my concern." 

Elrond sighed, defeated once again. 

Galadriel smiled and dipped her vase into the pool, and murmured a silent prayer to Varda. 

"May the Valar and Eru have mercy on those that cross the paths of Elladan and Elrohir." Elrond murmured to no one in particular. 

"That's the spirit my son!" said Galadriel, with enthusiasm. 

Elrond looked up at her dourly. 

"It was havoc cleaning up the dung and egg-yolk off the person who last did it."   
  
  


Legolas moved through the main lobby of the Ministry of Magic in a strange kind of awe. It reminded him of the central roads in Ithilien. Everyone bustling, gibbering away with important talks of Quidditch security, missing memos. . . 

All right, so it wasn't exactly like Ithilien, but close enough. 

Despite his amazement, Legolas managed to walk the strides that Professor Snape walked, and keep his fascinated expressions inside. 

Snape's brisk and impatient voice suddenly reached Legolas' ears. 

"Professor Harrison?!" 

"Oh, I beg your pardon, what were you saying?" 

Snape gave a glare that would give the grim reaper chills. 

"I was merely asking what department you worked at prior to your new position." 

"Oh, yes, Dark Arts Enforcement. . . why the curiosity, if I may be as so bold to ask?" 

Snape gave a small reserved sneer. 

"Too bold, Professor. If you must know, however, your former position may come into use here." 

Legolas thought a moment. 

"Of course, it always useful to know certain people and be of acquaintance to others, but why would the Headmaster need such politics? Whether or not the administration of the Ministry likes him, isn't he respected nonetheless?" 

Snape nearly stopped in his tracks as they neared the elevator that would carry them to their intended destination. He looked at Legolas with a kind of hard speculation that Snape had used when the two had first met, only this time, it was more curiosity than distrust. Legolas looked back at him with a subtle defiance veiled through an innocent stare. 

Snape decided to let it go, as he started walking again. 

"The Headmaster is respected by many, and disliked by few. Though those few that do not hold him in their favor will not admit their respects for him, not surprisingly." he added dourly. 

"I will tell you, Professor Snape," said Legolas as they stepped onto the elevator. "My department, when I last left it, was in a state of near chaos." 

There was a pause as the elevator began to jerk upward. 

"Go on," Snape said lowly. 

"I do not believe I am at full liberty to release such confidential information, but recently, our department has been detecting some disturbances some ten miles outside of the school of Hogwarts, in the Forbidden Forest to be exact." 

Snape turned to look at Legolas once again, and once again, Legolas was met with cold meticulous black eyes. 

"I will warn you now, Professor," Snape said softly, "I do not take kindly to lies." 

"If you can clearly see any benefit I have to gain from such a lie, I would hear it." 

"If you can clearly state how any person, whether or not their perception is acute, could see such a lie so early in a web such as the Ministry's, I would hear it as well." quipped Snape. 

"Assumptions tend to make arses out of people quite frequently, Professor. I do not believe you to be a fool, do not make a fool's mistake." 

"Is that a threat, Professor?" 

Legolas smiled. 

"Advice, Professor. From one elder to another." 

At that moment, the elevator door sprung open, and the department of Dark Arts Enforcement lay before the two Professors. Simultaneously, the two men stepped off the elevator to find the entire office deserted. Cobwebs cluttered dusty books and desks, while quills lay untouched in their empty inkbottles. Chairs lay on the ground upturned and forgotten next to volumes upon volumes of manuals, their pages spilling upon and neglected upon the floor. 

Snape's mouth drooped open at the sheer unexpectedness of the situation, while Legolas merely tried to improvise an excuse. 

Before any words of surprise or outrage could be spoken, something caught the attention of Legolas in the corner of his eye, and soon a merry voice was heard saying; 

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our old cousin Alex! Come my dear brother, take a gander at our friend now!" 

Legolas looked over to his right oddly, only to see, standing up in the dark shadows of the abandoned office, Elladan and Elrohir, the twins of Rivendell, in wizard attire. 

Now it was Legolas' turn to drop his mouth. 

"What a long time it has been. . ." murmured one of the raven eyed elves. 

Legolas swallowed. 

"Time indeed."   
  
  


Draco Malfoy slowly made his way up the winding spiral staircase at Grimm and Drear's bookstore. This was the one day he could leave his home without the shadow of his father lurking nearby, and yet, he still trudged his way through the world. What made him so uncomfortable? Was it the ominous look on Lucius Malfoy's face before he had left? Then again, Lucius had grown colder these past weeks. A recent disarming of himself and three other deatheaters had troubled him, and the attack had been led by some old wacky wizard, nonetheless. Along with Malfoy's particular bitterness this week, he had also been out serving the Dark Lord more frequently, and Draco and Narcissa were left to their own imaginations. Feeling particularly restless on this damp summer day, Draco had decided to floo his way to Knockturn Alley and entertain himself there. 

As he stepped upon the landing on the upper floor and Grimm and Drear's bookstore, Draco noticed, to his great annoyance, a woman was all ready there, in his normal seat, nonetheless. 

Sitting proper and prim, her eyes placidly and snobbishly scanning the pages of some book, the woman was dressed in a black dress robe, with a navy tie at her throat. She wore a hat that had a small fishnet veil attached, covering her porcelain face and dark eyes as she read her book with ease. 

Draco made a point of rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically. 

The woman's eyes remained on the paper, so Draco tried again. 

"Ahem." 

Two jewel blue eyes flickered up at Draco, and a warm smile spread across the lips of the strange woman. 

"May I help you, young sir?" 

Draco was deeply offeneded by this woman's politeness. There was something about her dark azure eyes, her raven hair, and her sweet, smart smile that irked Draco thoroughly, but at the same time. . . there was something intriguing about her. 

"You're in my seat," 

Lucius Malfoy's cold stinging voice and balled fist reminded Draco of his manners.

"_Madam_."

The odd woman smiled at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that so? Oh, I am so sorry." she said, and then continued to read.

Draco looked at her incredulously. 

Once again, he opened his mouth to snap at this empty-headed hag, but her soft voice cut him off midair.

". . .What's this? A young Malfoy, hmm. But where is your father?"

Draco looked at her suspiciously.

"Who are you?"

The woman smiled again, this time more broadly, and Draco noticed for the first time just how beautiful she was.

He glared, but could think of nothing to say.

"You see, Mr. Malfoy," the woman said, slipping in a silk mark in her book and carefully closing it, "Both you and your father are quite well known in the wizarding world-"

"And?" Draco cut in rudely, not seeing her point.

The woman's eyes flickered to him ominously.

". . .I would be honored if you sat down beside me." 

Draco opened his mouth to spit a condescending and snide remark at her, but when he looked at her face, something motherly appeared, something so alien and curious, he found himself moving to sit in the chair opposite of her.

She smiled as he sat down, and continued flipping through her book. 

"Fan of William Shakespeare, young Mr. Malfoy?"

"Never heard of him."

"Not unusual, I suppose, most children your age aren't all that eclectic when it comes to literary taste, take this."

She slid the giant book she was flipping through across to him, and Draco glanced down at it suspiciously.

"The Riverside Shakespeare?" he asked callously.

"Complete works," she quipped, "I suggest you begin with "The Tempest," and on from there with "King Lear," it is best if you read a comedy and then a tragedy, and then a comedy again. It isn't nearly as much overkill."

Draco's brow furrowed as he opened the book and started reading aloud;

"_To be up late is to be up before betimes, therefore to be up late is to be up early. . ._" he snapped the book shut and pushed it back to her callously. "Sounds like _bloody_ trash to me."

The woman raised an eyebrow as her hand slid across the table and retracted the book.

"On second thought . . . you seem to be more of a "Macbeth" person. . . let's see here. . . oh yes, here we are, '_By my finger and my thumb something wicked this way comes. . .'"_

As her deep rich voice read the dark words, Draco found himself entranced by this odd yet enchanting woman. As her voice slid over the words of turmoil, Draco, as inconspicuously as possible, slid his chair closer to her.

Legolas had no idea what to expect. 

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the figure of Gandalf the Grey came to him, reminding him about those select allies that were to come to them in the course of their journey, complements of Mandos the High.

He swallowed quite loudly and opened his mouth to explain to Snape about his 'cousins'-

"Well, Alexander. I do say you have some explaining to do." Said Elrohir (or was it Elladan?) folding his arms expectantly.

Legolas wheezed as he tried to smile.

Elladan turned to a very upset looking Snape and gave a smirk.

"Old boy never was very articulate, let me introduce myself and the other me. I am Edwin Averill-"

"And I'm Edgar Averill," said the other midnight haired twin, extending his hand and grasping Snape's limp and cold palm.

"You're Professor Averill's brothers?" Snape said, not sounding a bit excited at the prospect of having more of the snooty Professor's relations around him.

They both paused a moment, and in the darkness, a glimmer appeared in both of their eyes, and something told Snape it wasn't just the mischievousness. 

"Yes. . ." murmured Edwin, barely audible to even Legolas. "Tell me, Alexander. . . How is our dear sister?" came the voice that Legolas recognized more as Elrohir than any other alias.

"My dear cousin," said Legolas. "She is just as you left her. Kind, beautiful, and as witty as her father."

The twins grinned.

For a moment, there was silence, before Snape impatiently and loudly cleared his voice and drew the attention of everyone to the black-robed professor. 

"Perhaps, if you wouldn't mind, one of you could inform us about what happened here and why your department is. . . so unorganized, to say the least."

The twins looked to Legolas, who shrugged. 

"I told him my department was in upheaval."

"Well, Professor-"

"Snape." Snape said curtly.

"Ah, yes, Professor Snape. The Department of Dark Arts Enforcement has been a bit preoccupied keeping tabs on well, you know, and other troublemakers. His increasing activity near the Hogwarts and Hogsmeade areas has led many of our agents to do some. . .er. . . field work, so that's where they are, and they certainly do take their time." Edwin seemed to sum things up in a neat little package, but Snape wasn't in a mood for fooling.

"Mr. Averill, I do not need to remind you that there are other departments in this Ministry that were specifically designed for such 'field work' as you so aptly put it."

Edgar grinned.

"Professor Snape, is it too much to presume that you haven't paid our humble little Ministry a visit in some time?"

Snape's lip curled at the condescending tone in his voice.

"I haven't had the pleasure for some time."

"We're under new management, at least, in this department."

"Under whom?"

"Us, of course!" said Edwin cheerfully.

Snape's face fell.

"You. . .? two?" 

"Indeed. And, well, we have a bit of differences in taste for our recruitments, of course, our policies and agents are quite different from the previous department head."

"Which was. . ?"

"Oh, that's not important, what's important is you're here, and we're here, and now that we've all gotten a chance to get acquainted, we can leave!" said Edgar happily, taking Legolas and Snape by the elbow.

"Mr. Averill, your department is-"

"A bit rusty, oh yes, we're humble enough to admit when it needs a bit of spring cleaning, but that can wait, don't you say?" said Edwin, kicking a box that was in his way and splitting it in two as he did.


	10. Many Meetings

  
"I don't understand." said Draco in a low and sarcastic voice.  
  
"What don't you understand, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Arwen's deep voice from behind her small fishnet veil from which she had been flawlessly translating the dark words of "Macbeth," as Draco stumbled along them with a foreign tongue.  
  
"Why Lady Macbeth is acting so. . . so . . .abnormal. . ."  
  
"She's murdered three people."  
  
Draco remained blankly silent.  
  
Arwen smiled.   
  
"Some people have these eccentric quirks they like to call 'guilty consciences'"  
  
"Don't patronize me. I understand what that is, I don't understand why she's letting it bother her so much-"  
  
"-The blood of others is such a fickle thing." Arwen cut in sarcastically.  
  
Draco went on, oblivious,  
  
"I mean, if she's looking to rat herself out, then she's certainly off to a fine start!"   
  
Draco was frustrated and angry at the fictional yet tragic dame's demeanor, and Arwen decided to take advantage of this young man's weakness.  
  
"Keep in mind she's asleep, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"So!?"   
  
"These thoughts are all in her subconscious, and all she has left is her subconscious. Her life is literally a living hell. She cannot escape the darkness, and though she demands light by her constantly, it is of no avail. She is past redemption, past salvation. She will never have rest, and she will never have peace. Her life will be a constant between the waking world of hell. . . and the supernatural."  
  
Draco was clinging to her every word, and though Arwen knew Draco thought she couldn't see it, there was fear and anxiety behind his eyes and he looked and beseeched Arwen's thick and expressionless blue orbs for any sign, good or ill, that would help him destroy her.   
  
He could find none.  
  
"All because she was ambitious." he said blankly, giving her a flat look.  
  
Arwen said nothing, but leaned back.  
  
The thirteen year old leaned forward and glared at Arwen.  
  
"Are you ambitious?" he asked, defiantly mocking the past three hours she had spent with him.  
  
As Arwen reclined comfortably, she began to fiddle with the draping and elegant sleeve of her cloak. Soon her hand began moving in circular motions with crooking and bending motions with her fingers.   
  
"Apparently you've not been paying attention. Surprise, surprise." she ended cynically. "You've managed to evade the entire theme of "Macbeth," Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"You've managed to evade my question for the past three hours, madam!" Draco said, his temper boiling over as his fists slammed down on the table, sending vibrations off the very heart of the room. Draco was certainly becoming like his father, in every aspect of the matter.  
  
"What's this?" began Arwen lightly, looking at a long and artfully curved dagger that had appeared in her hand as Draco was venting his pointless rage.  
  
"'Is this a dagger before thine eyes?'"  
  
Draco sneered at the woman and slammed back in his chair with disgust.   
  
"Do you think that just because you quote some dead muggle moron that you're so bright? You think you can just slink by life by throwing out a dramatic and nonsensical quote here and there that you'll be respected, even feared? You're not only daft lady, but you're also an extreme clown-"  
  
"You're right," Arwen said, looking contemplatively at the dagger before her.  
  
"Maybe you should have it," Arwen's slim, gloved hand carefully placed the dagger on the center of the table, not taking her eyes away from Draco for even a second. "You do have an awful lot to learn about people. . . and such little time to learn it in."  
  
Draco gave a snort and opened his mouth to snap something at her when suddenly, a high-pitched scream filled the air, reaching Arwen's delicate ears with a sharp ring.  
  
"I was wondering when I'd hear that."  
  
Arwen looked up and around her slowly, trying to calculate by the pitch of the shrill just how many of them there were.  
  
"Beg pardon, master Malfoy, but it seems as though one of of my old acquaintances has stopped into town."  
  
Arwen gave Draco a wink before briskly standing up and and billowing out of the room, and as she seemed to practically snap down the stairs, Draco rushed to the nearest window and peered out with intense curiosity.  
  
When Arwen arrived in the plaza of Knockturn Alley, there was a great mass of people against the thinned out fog. They formed a mighty oval shape, obviously fearful of what was in the center, though Arwen could not spy just what or who it was. She pushed and shoved wizards and witches whom most people would have cowered down to, and managed to worm her way to the front lines. Arwen's face fell as she saw three orcs in the center, hissing and spitting vehemently at the crowd. She had never been face to face with an orc before, but now, she had three to deal with, for there was none else there to help her.   
  
As Arwen went to pull out her sword, a hoarse voice yelled across the crowd,   
  
"Professor Averill, I mean Cassandra- Oh damn!"  
  
It was McGonnagall, and she looked perfectly helpless with her wand outstretched in front of her.  
  
Wand.  
  
Oh no.   
  
Arwen began to panic.  
  
"Minerva, you. . you haven't used magic on them, have you?"  
  
"I was just about to put them in a body bind, but I-"  
  
"DON'T! I mean, don't do ANYTHING!" Arwen demanded, loudly enough for the entire crowd to hear and look at her with perplexing looks.  
  
"Well good heavens child, what do you intend to do with these creatures? We can't just sit back and-"  
  
Minerva couldn't finish her sentence, because Arwen had jumped in the middle, armed with a sword and an angry yell. The orcs were on her at once, with long and rusty swords aimed straight at the young woman's heart. Arwen forced herself to keep her head cool and take her attackers as any warrior would, that is, one at a time. First, she had to distract the other two in order to single out one.   
  
Arwen flashed her sword through the arm of one of the orcs which gave it a nasty cut. While it shrieked and shuddered, Arwen snapped her fingers and murmured a small incantation in her native Elvish tongue.   
  
The crowd was taken aback, and went dead silent, and Minvera McGonnagall, who had merely found Professor Averill curious before, was now very suspicious.   
  
The two orcs became possessed with some sort of hatred for each other, and immediately, with alarming ease, they both pulled out their swords and began to fight with deafening clangs and roars.   
  
While Arwen was busy concentrating on pitting the two orcs in front of her against each other, the orc behind her had recovered, and had pulled out a short, black dagger. Before Arwen could turn around, the orc strode forward and stabbed her directly in the back. Arwen gave out a strangled yell as she fell to her knees and the crowd around them became more panicked and several ran away and hid.   
  
Minerva McGonnagall could see no reason not to use her wand on the horrible beast that had just stabbed her new co-worker, and just as fast as the orc had stabbed Arwen in the back, Minerva had her wand out and a curse on her lips.  
  
"Petrificus Totalus!"   
  
"NO!!" Arwen screamed, but it was too late, the curse had hit the orc.  
  
At first, nothing happened. The spell appeared to have almost worked on the orc, but just as soon as it had hit the orc, it screamed back, and a great invisible wave could be seen bouncing off of the orc and right back at the woman who had cast it. McGonnagall, through some sort of great mixture between luck and instinct, managed to duck as the curse sailed over her head.   
At once, Arwen was up, with Gwemegil in hand and a placid look on her face which frightened the crowd and McGonnagall more than twenty orcs could have possibly done. With what seemed like one fluid motion, Arwen diced off the orc's hands and slit his poorly armored throat. She whipped around to the remaining two, who were slowly killing each other, and brought her sword to one's chest and plunged it in deeply. The orc fell to the ground with a gasp, and Arwen turned exhausted to the last orc, and with one deadly look, she softly murmured the most dreaded of all wizarding incantations.  
  
"Avada Kedavra."  
  
The orc rolled it's eyes up and crashed to the ground.  
  
Arwen dropped her sword with a clang and fell to the ground in a gasping heap.  
  
She was really out of shape.  
  
After the final thud was heard, time seemed to stop, and the only sound that could be heard was Arwen's shallow panting. The crowd around Arwen and the three slain orcs seemed to concentrate all of their hate and fear on Arwen through their blank and dark stares. As she raised herself up from the ground, Arwen merely looked back at them in return, with her famous Elven stare that had earned both her and and her grandmother both fear and respect from those of a weak mind. Instantly, those who looked at her and received looks in return cast their eyes elsewhere, cowering before the woman who could kill any creature with merely a glance.   
  
Apparently, Minerva McGonnagall eventually caught onto the seriousness of the moment, and quietly moved in the center of the circle and carefully took Arwen's arm.  
  
"Come on, then."   
  
Arwen would not budge, her eyes went from the crowd to the three orcs at her feet. McGonnagall followed her gaze, but looked up quickly, sickened and frightened at the alien creatures.  
  
"Please, my dear, the longer we stay, the more danger we are in, please, come."  
  
As McGonnagall stole a frightened yet still unwavering and blank Arwen, a young boy watched above from a dusty window of Grimm and Drear's bookstore. He watched the old Professor briskly pace away while the younger woman that had so intrigued and annoyed him seemed to float. Before his very eyes that little woman had butchered three monsters that he had never even seen before. . . she had killed them with a simple spell and an unblinking eye.   
  
Draco looked down at the beautifully curved dagger with foreign lettering on the blade. It was of a most exquisite calligraphy that he had never seen before, and as he looked out at the disappearing forms of Arwen and McGonnagall, he carefully slipped the dagger in his breast pocket, and quietly left the bookstore.  
  
To Professor Snape's continuing dismay, he discovered that the Averill twins were nothing like their younger sister.  
  
They wouldn't shut up.  
  
Even after they had exited the Ministry and apparated to Hogsmeade, the twins simply would not shut their traps. They rambled on about everything. It seemed like they had been around practically since the dawn of time, they way they went on about growing up and their lives now. Professor Harrsion was not helping either, what, with his chiming in every time there was three seconds of open air.  
  
". . . And of course, after father died, we had to go out into the world and make a place for ourselves-"  
  
"Goodness, yes! And our dear, little sister to take care of!"  
  
Snape snorted.  
  
"-Not to mention the fact that we had only just barely finished our schooling. . ."  
  
"And we had no financial support whatsoever-"  
  
Snape was beginning to wish some ungodly distraction would hurry up and shut these two dunderheads up. Unfortunately, he got his wish rather punctually.  
  
A ripping screech was heard to echo throughout the trees along the path from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, and flocks of birds and small animals fearfully scampered away at the unnatural sound.  
  
Edwin and Edgar both turned to each other and swallowed.  
  
"I wasn't expecting to hear that sound ever again."  
  
Snape whipped his head over to the twins, trying his hardest not to let on to the fear in his heart.  
  
"You know what that is?"  
  
The screech came again, only this time, it was followed by another but in a higher pitch.  
  
"To our grave misfortune, Professor, we know very well what that is. . . I should say, what those are." whispered Edgar, his eyes wide with realization as he watched the birds flock away into the horizon.   
  
"Cousins," murmured Professor Harrison, "I think perhaps we should continue on as fast as possible to the school."  
  
Edwin turned to his cousin with a look of disbelief.   
  
"You mean. . . run? Surely you don't mean that." he murmured, unconvinced himself.   
  
"I do, and I mean now." Professor Harrison hissed to his cousins.   
  
Snape looked at them with growing spite, for they were either dangerously smart or tactically stupid. Either one triggered his distrust further.  
  
"Edwin," murmured Edgar, "he's right. Listen. . . they grow restless."  
  
The four men leaned into the pathway, dead in their tracks, as they opened their ears for some sort of further indication for the four men to venture forward to the school, but it did not come.  
  
Snape felt ridiculous.  
  
"Ahem," he said loudly, with intentions of startling all three men, but it did not happen. The Professor and his two cousins' facial expressions started to nerve Snape further, because while he heard nothing, they seemed to be hearing everything. Edwin looked as if he was going to start shaking any minute.  
  
"Merciful heaven. . ." he murmured, running his hand through his midnight hair.  
  
". . .I can hear four!" hissed Edwin.  
  
"There are nine." Professor Harrison said darkly, adopting a serious posture.   
  
Edwin and Edgar looked at him incredulously.  
  
"No. . .-"  
  
"They prefer to hide. They think they can fool us if we only hear three. Come. . . we must go, and quickly. If we're not careful, they may track us."  
  
What they did not know, was that they were being tracked by something more threatening than the Black Riders.   
  
A large, black and shaggy dog had been following the group of men for quite some time, paying particular attention to the identical twins.  
  
There was something so familiar about them, so that when they apparated in that dim alley way of Hogsmeade where the black dog had met the raven haired woman in his dreams so many nights ago, he nearly died of fright when he saw these two men that looked just as fragile as she did.  
  
Sirius could not help but follow them, and though he knew full well the consequences that lay ahead of him if he were caught, he would rather find out what Snape and his little friends were up to. Because if Sirius knew one thing, it was not to trust anyone aiding a snake.  
  
"There were two of them . . ." Remus trailed off, trying as hard as he possibly could to remember all the fine details of these men.  
  
"One was older. Purely white, everything," he chuckled, disturbed but seeing the irony of the situation in a new light, "white hair, white robes. . . a white staff. . ."  
  
Remus looked up in wonder at this small factoid which tugged on some fabric of his memory.  
  
"So peculiar. . . he used a staff. . . not a wand, I-I mean, he may have had a wand, but that's not really the question since I never saw him pull it out. . . it was the most powerful thing I'd ever seen. "  
  
He took a long pause.  
  
"It was the most frightening thing I'd ever seen." he murmured absently.   
  
Remus paused for a moment, trying to contemplate the seriousness of the matter of what he'd seen and trying to figure out just how they did it. He could find no explanation, not one, that fit the circumstances surrounding the world's he knew. Muggles couldn't possible devise something like that, much less conjure up that sort of power and wield it. Even though it was distasteful to admit, wizards were limited in their abilities to do such an enormous amount of magic at one time, as the white wizard had done. It had to have come from a third world, one alien to himself.  
  
"Incredible." he muttered, still lost in thought.  
  
Albus Dumbledore leaned forward, remembering the intellectual talents of his former pupil and knowing he could not keep the truth from him for long.  
  
"It is incredible."  
  
"And yet you seem to be bored out of your mind." Remus cocked his head. "Why?"  
  
Dumbledore paused.  
  
"What reason would you like to hear, Remus?"   
  
He sounded so tired, and Remus furrowed his brow, unaccustomed to this side of Albus Dumbledore, but he let him continue, nonetheless.  
  
"'I've lived through it' . . . 'I'm dealing with very similar situations, and so are other brave people, without ever really understanding why'. . . or. . . 'I can do just what you have described to me, and more.'"  
  
Remus looked on at the wizened old man in a great peculiarity, and opened his mouth to speak but was rudely interrupted as the door to Dumbledore's office slammed, open, revealing a frayed and furious McGonnagall.  
  
"JUST WHAT IN THE BLAZES DID YOU THINK YOU WERE UP TO!?-"  
  
Dumbledore sighed as McGonngall sucked in more air and pushed more momentum into her tirade.  
  
"DID THE FACT THAT THIS WOMAN CAN KILL WITHOUT A WAND, WITHOUT EVEN THE BLINK OF AN EYE STRIKE YOU AS GREAT TEACHING MATERIAL?-"  
  
Fawkes began to squeak loudly so he could match pitch with McGonagall, while Remus found himself stumbling out of Minerva McGonnagall's way as she nearly knocked over the large chair in which Remus was sitting in order to spit her argument in Dumbledore's face.  
  
"Minerva-"  
  
"DID SHE IMPRESS YOU WITH THE WAY SHE CAN SIMPLY LOOK AT SOMETHING AND KILL IT INSTANTANEOUSLY? WHAT A WONDERFUL TEACHER YOU'VE FOUND, THE CHILDREN ARE SURE TO ADORE HER. . . . IF THEY CAN STAY ALIVE!"  
  
"Quite so, and understandably-"  
  
"WHAT IF THEY IRK HER, AND SHE'S HAVING A BAD DAY? HMM!?!! "BOOM" SO WHAT DO WE SAY TO LITTLE SUSIE HANDERWHIFF'S MOTHER AND FATHER WHEN SHE COMES HOME FOR CHRISTMAS IN A NICE LITTLE VASE-"  
  
"Minerva, you're becoming erratic-"  
  
"AM I? AND JUST WHAT SORT OF ERRATIC QUIRKS DOES HARRISON HAVE? CAN HE BLOW UP LITTLE SCHOOLCHILDREN WITH THE SNAP OF HIS FINGERS?"  
  
"I imagine so, but really, wouldn't that be too messy for such a refined gentleman such as Professor Harrison?"  
  
"ALBUS-"  
  
"Sit down, Minerva."  
  
Minerva slumped down into a chair, exhausted, while Remus decided to stay in his safe little corner.   
  
"Now, where is Professor Averill?"  
  
Minerva sighed.  
  
"I took her to the hospital wing-"  
  
Albus was up in a flash, and just as soon, out the door, demanding Remus and McGonnagall follow him.  
  
"What happened, tell me on the way, just. . .hurry, please."  
  
The four gentlemen were almost to the Hogwarts castle, a dark silence falling over even the talkative twins, as they journeyed onward. Little did Legolas and the twins realize, was that Snape was growing weary of giving unconditional trust to a group of people who he did not judge fit to even exist in the magical world.   
  
His hand was gripping his wand tenaciously, ready for any sort of slip-up.   
  
As the four gravely yet swiftly came out of the clearing leading to Hogwarts, Elrohir stopped suddenly, and looked over his shoulder with a curious squint.  
  
"Oh, brother!" he muttered in a dark tone. Elladan turned around and set his gaze on the winding path behind them, shrouded in darkness and deep foliage. "We have someone following us."  
  
"I thought you said we weren't being tracked." Snape said icily, his wand in the folds of his robes now.  
  
Edwin turned to Snape.  
  
"Someone, Professor. Not something."   
  
Elrohir raised an eyebrow as he motioned for Elladan to follow him back onto the path from which they had just emerged. Elladan likewise followed him, and turned as he was walking away and looked at Snape with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk.  
  
"Really, Professor Snape, you shouldn't hide your feelings. Or anything else for that matter. . ." he said, and briskly followed his twin.  
  
There was an awkward silence on behalf of Snape, who, though deeply surprised by the young man's far-reaching instinct and knowledge, remained grim and impassive. Legolas' eyes flickered to Snape for half a moment, realizing that he had been in such a frenzy over the riders that he hadn't even noticed Snape was completely en garde for a backstabbing move from any one of the elves.  
  
"You distrust me."   
  
Legolas stated, as he watched Elladan and Elrohir exit the clearing.  
  
Snape had his wand out now, not seeing the point in keeping it hidden any longer.  
  
"Is there any reason I shouldn't?"  
  
Legolas shrugged.  
  
"Considering the situation, I find you quite justified."  
  
"Then I would be justified in taking your life." he said softly, raising his wand in a venomous motion.  
  
Legolas paused, looking Snape up and down blankly, but he said nothing, so Snape moved in.  
  
"You seem well acquainted with these new enemies that have happened to spring up overnight, your little 'cousins', all three of them, are dangerously perceptive-"  
  
"Dangerously?" Legolas interrupted bravely.  
  
Legolas smiled and chuckled, all without taking his eyes off of Snape.   
  
"My good Severus, take a good look around you. Do you see the darkness? Do you see the light? Is there anything in between? If so, how can you tell? Do you know what is right, what is wrong, etc.? Does your perception of the world around you match that of Cassandra's? or Edgar and Edwin's? Mine? Who is more accurate in their observations? Us. . . or you? Keeping that in mind, who is more dangerous? If your definition of 'dangerous' is honest, then you are a sure conundrum, my dear Professor."  
  
"You are trying to trick me, Professor." curled Snape, his voice so calm and steady that it was almost unnerving.  
  
"It won't work, I warn you. I have been under greater forces than you could ever imagine-"   
  
"Don't be so sure, Professor." Legolas spat.  
  
For the first time since their meeting, Snape saw the young man's eyes flash dangerously, seeing behind the young man's sweet and seemingly kind facade.  
  
"Quite arrogant, predictably so." Snape said as he smirked.  
  
"Quite ignorant, flagrantly so." Legolas shot right back.  
  
Snape was on Legolas in flash, now so livid with rage that he could not control anything he did, and before he could stop himself, his wand was aimed at the heart of the young man with a curse on his tongue.  
  
"Impedi-"  
  
Legolas' Elven instincts flew into action, and in combination with his new world body and his old world spirit and magic, rolled onto the ground and sprang up on one knee with an outstretched hand.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Snape blinked and his wand had snapped out of his hand and into the waiting palm of Legolas. The force was so strong, so intense, that it blew Snape back a good twenty feet and into a tree.  
  
He sat there, blinking away the darkness that threatened over his eyes, and struggling to compose himself as Legolas watched him like a lazy cat. Slowly, he began to walk over to where Snape was slouched against with serious and composed expression that Snape had only previously seen Albus Dumbledore wear.  
  
"I understand the fine line you walk everyday, Severus. Just as well, I know how dangerous you are." He leaned down and offered Snape his wand back.   
  
"Do you respect how dangerous I am?"  
  
Snape looked at him a minute, trying to understand just what sort of creature this man really was.   
  
"I think it's time you told me who you are."  
  
Legolas smiled.  
  
"No, Professor. I think it's about time you stop asking."  
  
Sirius padded along, quite sure that he was being as inconspicuous as a large dog could be.   
  
Suddenly, he stopped.  
  
Two of the men that he had been following had turned around and were returning down the path. Sirius' immediate reaction was to cower into the bushes and hide until they left again.   
  
Bear in mind, Sirius Black, in his Animagus form, deemed himself swift and cunning, able to escape any human predator because of their comparable lethargy to him.  
  
However, even as Sirius was running into the bushes, he saw one of the identical twins come into his view, and stopped dead in his tracks, frozen with fear.  
  
"Leaving so soon?" the man asked with a dark tone. His twin soon stepped out of dark path of the forest and beside his brother.  
  
Sirius growled threateningly, hoping that would intimidate them away.  
  
"Oh, please." said the twin who had just arrived, with a twinge of impatience and sarcasm.  
  
Sirius did not stop growling and spitting. With his hackles raised and his teeth bared, he began snapping barks at the two men and hunching down on his forepaws in a springing position, secretly wishing that they would keep prodding him on so he could snap them down. Yet the twins remained stoic at every threatening gesture the large black dog made, making Sirius even more furius than before, but he kept snarling and snapping his jaws at the two men.  
  
Finally, Elrohir could take no more, and began laughing from pure embarrassment for the dog.  
  
"How are you still alive?!" he quipped sarcastically.  
  
This comment stopped Sirius from his fuming and caused him to the cock his dog head in bewilderment.   
  
"Honestly?! Is this how you defend yourself?"  
  
"Edwin, he doesn't need to defend himself against humans, just other dogs." said Elladan dourly, looking at Sirius with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Elrohir rolled his eyes.  
  
"Look," Elladan continued, squatting down on the ground so that he was eye level with the large dog.  
  
"We're not the kind of people who like to humor and patronize other people. I.E. talking to a fully grown man in Animagus form. We're also not the type of people who are impatient, but when it comes decievers and foul-magicians,"   
  
His eyes flickered at the irony of the statement for a moment, before continuing.  
  
"We just don't see the point in wasting time. So we can do this the hard way-"  
  
"We can change you into your human form-" cut in Elrohir  
  
"Or the easy way-"  
  
"Or you can do it for us. What do you say?"  
  
Sirius paused a good moment examining the two men. They seemed honest and kind, but he knew he could not afford to put his life in the hands of appearences. Sirius bent down and was in the pouncing position, and then the most curious thing happened; he actually made the pounce, but about midair, a slight and familiar tingling sensation came over Sirius, and he landed on two feet instead of four.  
  
When he looked up, he could only imagine the surprised look that he was sending to the two twins, because they were both smiling.  
  
"Well, now that we're all comfortable," said Elladan, now up from the ground.   
  
"I think we should all have a nice, pleasant, little chat."  
  
Remus, McGonnagall and Albus came bustling into the Hospital Wing just as Nurse Pomfrey was about to administer a Sleeping Potion to Professor Averill.  
  
"That will be enough for today Poppy, thank-you!" Albus said briskly, swiftly advancing on Madame Pomfrey and snatching the vile out of her hands.   
  
"But Headmaster, I must insist-"  
  
"Professor Averill will get the rest she needs, after a few questions, of course. On my honor."  
  
Madame Pomfrey gave him a stout glare, but nodding and stalking off irritably.  
  
Arwen sighed and smiled faintly.  
  
"For a moment I thought I'd actually have to drink that horrid looking substance, thank you." she said, reclining back onto her pillow.  
  
It was here that Remus got his first good look at Professor Averill. She was in short, one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.  
  
He felt a rush of sympathy for the male students in her class this coming semester, and the poor marks they would be receiving due to her distractingly flawless figure.  
  
As she tried to push back her mane of raven black hair, Remus felt a rush of red flow to his face. He was staring at her, something quite rude and unfitting for any woman.  
  
Feeling awkward, he focused his gaze on his shoes, however, keeping his keen hearing.  
  
"Oh, don't be so naive. Just answer a few questions, and you'll be off in Dreamland in no time. You're unhurt?" Albus asked with undisguised concern.  
  
She smiled.  
  
"For the most part. I must admit, I've never dealt with something quite like that before."  
  
"I'm sure you haven't," he chuckled, "Come now, let's see that wound on your back."  
  
Arwen leaned forward with a slight hiss as Professor Dumbledore peeled off the bandage off of her upper back.   
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Ever the fast healer, aren't you, Cassandra?"  
  
Arwen swallowed.  
  
Nurse Pomfrey hadn't noticed anything irregular, execept the dark liquid around her wound, but thankfully there hadn't been any poison in the orc's dagger, and Poppy removed the queer liquid with a simple draining spell, and Arwen could breathe easily, at least she thought so.   
  
So Mandos had decided to bring her back in her Elven form, and not her human form. Arwen admitted she was curious whether or not she was still prone to illness and age, since her foresight and extreme perceptiveness had never left her, even as she grew gray with age.  
  
Arwen shuddered.  
  
"You're quite lucky you weren't poisoned, my dear. I advise you to use more caution next time."  
  
"Always."   
  
Arwen's eyes flickered to Lupin, who had brought his gaze to peer over at the strange wound on Arwen's back. When he felt her gaze on her, he caught his breath in his chest and forced himself to look at her. Blue eyes penetrated his, and a surging feeling of discomfort fell over him. However, he did not look away. There was something so enigmatic about this young woman and yet so dangerous that Remus could not contain his curiousity.  
  
"Hello." said Arwen slyly, causing Albus and Remus to smile.  
  
"May I introduce Remus Lupin. A former student and trusted friend of Hogwarts. Remus, this is Cassandra Averill. She and Alexander Harrison are to be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors." said Albus.  
  
Arwen extended her hand and Remus took it carefully and gave it a good shake.  
  
Albus looked back and forth between the two and smiled faintly.  
  
"Remus, I must admit, Professor Averill most likely has more answers than I could ever give you about your unique encounter. Would it be too much, Cassandra, if Remus asked you a few questions?"  
  
"Of course not." Arwen said pleasantly.  
  
"Then, Remus, you will of course, administer this young lady's Sleeping Potion to her afterwards, won't you?"  
  
"Certainly, but Albus-"  
  
"Come, Minerva, I have a few questions and even fewer answers for you."   
  
As Albus quietly but swiftly guided Minerva McGonnagall out of the Hospital Wing, Remus sighed belatedly as he looked at the door, longing for some other company to share his feeling of extreme awkwardness.  
  
Even Arwen felt a little embarrassed at Dumbledore's actions and wanted to give Remus Lupin a sense of comfort. Leaning forward in her bed, Arwen smiled at Lupin.  
  
"For an old man, he's losing his touch of subtletly."  
  
Remus chuckled, and nervously scratched the back of his head. Arwen's smile fell slowly and she slipped her lower lip under her teeth.  
  
"Is there something you'd like to ask me, Mr. Lupin?"  
  
Remus looked at her again, this time much more calculating. He could not yet determine if she could be trusted, not this early. What, with Sirius. . . No. None of that. He vowed he would never think of him again, until he was able to destroy him, once and for all. Dumbledore was the only man he could trust at the moment. Yet, as he looked again into the depths of this young woman's eyes, he felt that even if he did not ask her, she would know. She would know all of his secrets and all his deepest fears. . . only at a glance.  
  
A most peculiar talent.  
  
"I had a very pertrubing experience a few days ago." Remus found himself speaking before he even realized it.  
  
"Go on." said Arwen softly.  
  
Remus told her his account of the day at the Hogs Head. He told her every last gory detail of everything that had happened, fromt the wizard in white to the shattering of Lucius Malfoy's wand into a million pieces. All the while, she remained stoic and expressionless. Remus wondered briefly if she was listening at all. It was only at the mention of the wizard's young accomplice, did Arwen's eyes narrow. As Remus described the snakelike man to her, her face became more stern.  
  
"What would you like to know?" Arwen asked finally when he finished.  
  
Remus' face contorted. What sort of question was that? He'd like to know just what the blazes had happened back there and just who those men were and why they had scared him to the brink of a breakdown.  
  
"Excuse me?" he asked feebly.  
  
"It's quite obvious you are aware of how dangerous this wizard is, and I'm certain you know that these two wizards are certainly not of this world, so I really don't know what I could tell you that you don't all ready know."  
  
Remus looked at her disbelievingly for a moment.   
  
"I'd like to know who these men were."  
  
"Why?"  
  
" . . .I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Why would you like to know who they were? They're obviously not that tactful when it comes to using their power, so it should be easy to identify them if you're walking down the street." Arwen said casually.  
  
"Professor Averill, if I don't find out who these men are, then-"  
  
"It won't matter. You agree that they are not from this world, yes?"  
  
"That seems to be the only explanation-"  
  
"Then even if you knew their names, origin, titles, etc., there would be nothing there to give face to that knowledge."  
  
Remus paused.  
  
"You're very shrewd." he said finally, leaning back.  
  
Arwen laughed.  
  
"Call it whatever you like, but understand that you must acquaint yourself with this evil, any evil for that matter, before you can begin to understand it."  
  
"Fair enough. Answer me something else, though-"  
  
"Mr. Lupin, I thought we had all ready agreed that it is redundant to devulge anything further. Therefore, I cannot answer anything else."  
  
"Of course you can, Professor Averill. You simply won't; but you can to me."  
  
Arwen raised an eyebrow and smiled at this remark ever so faintly.  
  
"What makes you so certain my secrets are worthy of you?"  
  
"Because you and I have the same secrets."  
  
Arwen was taken back. She put a stoic expression on her face, but she knew Lupin had all ready bested her, and Arwen knew that from now on, Lupin would either be a great ally or a dangerous foe.  
  
Remus continued, ever so softly.  
  
"Let's not play games, Professor. You know something about me and you haven't even met me."  
  
"I should say the same about you." Arwen murmured.  
  
"Then how can this be? How do I know for certain that you and those other wizards are not in an alliance, since you are both clearly not from this world?"  
  
"Is it really that clear?" Arwen asked sarcastically.  
  
Remus smiled faintly.  
  
"I have a keen sense for those that are not completely human."  
  
"What a coincidence."  
  
Remus and Arwen looked at each other, niether one ready to back down from the other's gaze. For the first time since she had arrived in this strange and changed world that used to be her home, Arwen felt like she could trust this man with anything. For a brief moment, she thought of telling him her deepest, most dark secret, but the thought of Legolas stopped her. He would never betray her, and she owed him to at least do the same.  
  
"Who are you?" Remus murmured.  
  
Arwen shrugged.  
  
"No one of great importance. And yourself?"  
  
Remus sighed and sat up from his chair. As he crossed to the sidetable to where Arwen's sleeping potion stood, he never took his eyes off of her. Remus carefully picked up the vile and gave it to Arwen.  
  
"Drink up, Professor."  
  
Arwen sighed as she took the vile in her hands and brought it to her lips. However, before she drank, her eyes rested on Remus.  
  
"If Lucius Malfoy's wand didn't work on the white wizard, what makes you think this will work on me?"   
  
Remus' face fell into a grave expression. He said nothing, but motioned for her to drink. Arwen complied hesitantly, and choked down the nasty substance, but Remus did not wait to see if it had the desired effects. For the moment her lips were on the vile, Remus had turned on his heel and had exited the Hospital Wing.  
  



End file.
